


A Heart That Hurts (Is A Heart That Works)

by enigmaticblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is offered a reward for sending Lucifer back to hell, he asks for Castiel to be let off the hook. What he doesn't realize is that disobedience always has consequences. And when he gets a phone call from Claire Novak, Dean may find that he's in over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through the end of season 4.

Pain flared as he shifted on the hard ground, every muscle seizing up. Rough grass tickled his nose; dust filled his mouth. With a grunt, he rolled over onto his back, opening his eyes to see blue sky.

Thirst caused him to cough, and he turned his head enough to spit out the dust and grass he’d breathed in. He could feel sweat trickling down his neck and chest, and he knew that he needed to rise, but his heavy limbs refused to cooperate, gravity anchoring him to earth in a way that it hadn’t in the past.

Castiel gathered his strength. He rolled onto his side, and laboriously pushed himself to a kneeling position. Gathering his flagging strength, he briefly considered lying down again.

Dean, his conscience prodded him. He had a responsibility to Dean, even if he could provide little in the way of help now.

His own harsh breaths drowned out the birdsong that had filled the clearing. Castiel got his feet under him, swaying unsteadily. He took one step, then two, on shaky legs that threatened to buckle under his weight, sweat trickling into his eyes as he focused on the edge of the clearing.

There were at least a dozen downed trees around him, and Castiel dragged the sleeve of his trench coat across his forehead and took another step.

At this pace, the world would have ended by the time he found Dean.

“Cas!” Dean’s voice echoed across the clearing, and he jogged into the open, relief washing over his face. “You okay?”

Castiel tried to speak but could only manage a hoarse cough.

“Sammy! Over here! Grab the water from the car!” Dean shouted over his shoulder, and the words lifted a weight from Castiel’s mind he hadn’t known he felt. Castiel knew that without Sam, Dean would falter, and he had been aware of the possibility that Lucifer would use Sam, and that Dean would be forced to choose between his brother and the rest of the world.

Castiel suspected that the world might lose.

“Fucking angels,” Dean muttered as he ran rough hands over Castiel’s arms, checking for injuries. “They couldn’t have dropped you somewhere closer?”

Castiel managed to clear his throat enough for speech. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t try to talk,” Dean ordered. “Dammit. You look like you’re ready to have a heatstroke. It’s too fucking hot to wear a coat. You mind?”

Castiel wasn’t sure what Dean was asking if he minded, but he shook his head, and Dean wasted no time pushing his coat and suit jacket off his shoulders in one motion. Castiel felt his stomach twist with some unnamed emotion as Dean pulled his tie off and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“You okay?” Dean asked, his voice softer.

“Yes.” He tried to swallow and coughed again. “I’m okay.”

“Probably overheated and dehydrated,” Dean muttered, sounding angry, although Castiel didn’t think that Dean was angry at him. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean managed a smile then, patting Castiel on his damp shoulder. “Yeah, figures. It doesn’t look like you’re bleeding anywhere. Anything hurt?”

“Everything hurts,” he said plaintively, before he could think better of it.

Instead of scorn, however, the words earned him another smile, this time sympathetic. “It’s okay. We’ll get you to a motel, then you can have a bed.”

There was a crashing in the brush at the edge of the clearing, then Sam came loping towards them, his long legs covering a lot of ground. “Here you go,” he said, handing off the bottle to Dean. “How are you?”

Castiel realized that Sam was talking to him, and he looked in vain for any sign of the darkness that had been shrouding the man’s soul. Sam merely appeared concerned, however, the raw sympathy in his eyes difficult for Castiel to meet head-on. Castiel didn’t think this was the Sam he’d known, the one that the angels had considered killing.

“Drink.” Dean uncapped the water bottle and shoved it into Castiel’s hand. “Slowly, or you’ll make yourself sick.”

He sipped, and the lukewarm water was the best thing he’d tasted. Castiel was nearly overwhelmed by the sensation of his thirst being slaked.

His sigh of relief may have given some of that away, because Sam grinned, and Dean laughed out loud. “If you think that’s good, wait until you have your first beer.”

Castiel smiled, because he knew no other response to give. He had no experience with beer, and he didn’t know if he’d enjoy it.

“Can you walk?” Sam’s voice was gentle, at odds with the angry, secretive man Castiel remembered. Surely, so much couldn’t have changed in such a short time.

“Yes.” His legs still trembled, but Dean threw an arm around his waist, supporting his weight, while Sam gathered up his discarded clothing.

“The car isn’t far,” Sam assured him. “We’ll have you there in a minute.”

Castiel had questions, but each step he took stirred up new aches, and he didn’t have the energy to spare for words.

Dean helped him into the back seat, then grabbed another bottle of water, taking the empty one from him. “Keep drinking. You need the fluids.”

Castiel took a sip, then leaned his head against the window. Exhaustion had his eyes drifting shut even as he attempted to do as Dean had ordered.

“Hey.” Castiel’s eyes opened, and Sam took the bottle from his hand. “Go to sleep, Castiel.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

~~~~~

Dean kept glancing in the rearview mirror, wanting to be certain that the man in the backseat wasn’t an illusion or a dream.

“He’s not going anywhere, Dean.” Sam spoke quietly so as not to disturb Castiel.

Dean set his jaw, not replying.

A soft sigh came from the passenger seat. “I know he’s been gone for a year.”

“It doesn’t matter. We got him back.”

“What are we going to do with him?”

Trust Sam to be the practical one, Dean thought. The apocalypse had rubbed the idealism right out of him. “He’s been tortured for a year by his own kind. We’re going to look after him.”

“We don’t know that he was tortured.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, right. You heard the archangel, and there’s no way they were playing Parcheesi.”

“Actually, I didn’t hear the archangel, remember? I was a little out of it at the time.” Sam’s impatient tone was paired with his bitch face, and not without reason. Dean was aware that he’d been an ass for the last couple of days, searching for Castiel.

“Michael said Cas was being punished, Sam.” Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel. “That’s all I need to know.”

When he’d been granted a request in return for ending the apocalypse—pretty much anything other than raising someone from the dead—Dean had thought of Castiel.

Dean had owed the angel—owed him for Sam’s life, because there was no telling what his brother would have done if Dean hadn’t shown up when he did. Since Castiel wasn’t actually dead, Dean could get him back.

And what Sam didn’t understand, what Dean couldn’t explain, was that it felt so damn good to finally save someone he had thought was beyond saving—and not have to go to hell to do it.

Dean glanced back at Castiel again; saving someone was never without consequences.

“I’m not saying that we shouldn’t help him, Dean.” Sam stared out of the window at the trees that lined the two-lane highway. “But we’re talking about a man who has no experience as a human. He might have been some help while he was an angel, but we’re hunters.”

“What the hell else would we do with him? Who do we leave him with? And we don’t even know how much danger he’s going to be in.” Dean wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—himself or Sam—but he spoke the truth.

Sam nodded. “We can wait to find another hunt, maybe settle down somewhere for a while.”

Dean wondered how long Sam had been waiting to bring up that possibility; it sounded a lot like his old desire for a normal life. Dean had figured that got snuffed out along with his optimism. He’d begun to think that he was the one most likely to settle down.

“You think?”

“I’m tired, and I know you are.” Sam gave him a look. “We’ve been crisscrossing the country non-stop for the last year with no chance to heal—and you’re still favoring your left arm.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that. “Where do you want to go, Sam?”

“Where do you want to go?” Sam countered. “You were the one who saved the world.”

“Maybe Sioux Falls,” Dean suggested tentatively. “Bobby’s there.”

Sam laughed softly. “Yeah, I get it, Dean. Sioux Falls is fine. They’ve got a few colleges there.”

“You thinking about going back to school?”

“I don’t know.” Sam smiled. “Maybe.”

Dean nodded. “All right.”

He thought that might be just fine.

~~~~~

Castiel woke with a start, a strong hand on his shoulder shaking him awake.

“Cas? You okay?”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath. “I’m fine.” Castiel understood the theory behind dreams, but this was the first time he’d experienced one. The details were indistinct, but he felt unsettled.

“We’re at the motel,” Dean explained. “We’ll stop for the night and head out tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?”

“Bobby’s for now, but we’re going to find a spot to settle for a while. Come on.”

Dean helped him out of the backseat, showing no signs of impatience with his weakness, then into the motel room. Sam followed, laden with their bags and Castiel’s clothing.

The brothers communicated silently, the breach between them bridged as though it had never existed. “I’ll be back,” Sam announced.

“You want to get cleaned up?”

Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of the question. It sounded like more of a command, and he nodded uncertainly. “What about Lucifer? Did you stop him?”

Dean sat down next to him on the bed slowly, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Yeah, we did. We stopped him.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “I was in time.”

Dean appeared uncertain. “Yeah, about that… It’s been a year, Cas.”

“A year?”

“A year since the green room, since Lucifer rose.”

Castiel didn’t understand what he meant. “But—”

“Lucifer is gone,” Dean assured him. “Locked back up in the Pit where he belongs.”

“I don’t understand.” Time did not bind angels; the fact that a year had passed for Dean should mean nothing. But Castiel had watched Dean, had known nearly everything that had gone on in his life over the year the seals were broken. This gap in knowledge troubled him.

“I got a wish granted. The archangel said I could have a request, pretty much anything other than bringing someone back from the dead.”

It took Castiel a moment to process the implications of Dean’s statement. “You asked for me?”

“You were still alive—or in existence.” Dean turned, ducking his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. “What did they do to you?”

He remembered pain—the feeling of being torn apart over and over again. And he remembered the face of the Archangel Michael and his terrible compassion as he had said, “You have been granted a reprieve, but disobedience always comes with consequences.”

Castiel shook his head. “I disobeyed, Dean.”

“You helped me.” The intensity in Dean’s voice caused Castiel to look up. “If I hadn’t arrived when I did, Sam might have gone darkside for good.”

“I didn’t do enough.”

“You did what you could.” Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You gonna be okay, Cas?”

Castiel didn’t know, but he didn’t want to disappoint Dean. “Yes.”

Dean chuckled. “We’ve got you lying like a Winchester already. Go take a shower. I’ll dig out some clean clothes out for you.”

Rising from the bed, Castiel waited until he felt steady enough to walk before heading for the bathroom. Dean’s voice checked him at the doorway. “Cas—I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want to fall.”

“Here is infinitely better than where I was.” Castiel managed a smile.

Dean nodded. “Okay. Holler if you need anything.”

~~~~~

Dean snatched the paper sack out of the air when Sam tossed it towards him. “Did you remember the pie?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I forgot the pie once, Dean. Am I ever going to live that down?”

“In a word? No.” He dug into the bag. “You got something for Cas, too, right?”

“Turkey sandwich.”

Dean frowned. “Seriously?”

“We don’t know how long it’s been since he’s eaten. Anything too greasy will probably just come right back up.”

Dean grunted in tacit assent to that bit of wisdom. “Clothes?”

Sam tossed a bag from Wal-Mart on the bed. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure what he’d want.”

Dean snorted. “Anything other than that damn trench coat.”

Sam grinned and pulled out his chicken sandwich and fries. “It’s too warm for a coat right now.”

“Dean?” Castiel came out of the bathroom, clutching a towel around his waist. “I left my clothes on the floor as you asked.”

Ignoring the flash of desire that hit him at the sight of Cas in a towel, Dean reached for the plastic sack and found the packages of boxers, undershirts and socks that Sam had picked up. Ripping them open, he pulled out what Cas would need, then rummaged in his bag for a clean pair of jeans. Dean shoved the clothing into Castiel’s free hand.

“There you go.”

Castiel eyed the pile of clothing uncertainly. “Thank you.”

When he disappeared back into the bathroom, Sam turned to look at Dean. “You sure he doesn’t need help?”

“Shut up.” Dean spoke without heat, stuffing another couple of fries in his mouth.

“You going to share the bed with him?”

“You’re going to take the floor,” Dean countered, his mouth still full. He grinned, showing half-chewed food and making Sam grimace.

“Gross, dude.” Sam put his sandwich down. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and prepared himself. He groaned a moment later. “Shit.”

“If you didn’t keep choosing scissors, I wouldn’t win all the time.” Sam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. “You could always sleep with Cas.”

“Is this correct?”

Castiel’s emergence interrupted Dean’s scathing retort. He was dressed in Dean’s jeans and a white undershirt, wiggling sock-covered toes against the carpet.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Dean couldn’t quite figure out why the sight of Castiel in normal clothing made his stomach twist. “Great.”

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Castiel offered.

Dean shook his head. “No, Cas. You’re hurt worse than I am. You should have the bed.”

“It’s big enough. Perhaps we can share?”

Dean coughed. “No, man. I kick.” He rose and waved Castiel to the chair he’d just vacated. “Sit. Eat. I, uh, I’m going to get cleaned up.”

He grabbed his things and disappeared into the bathroom, taking a deep breath. It was a normal reaction, Dean told himself. It was just relief. The apocalypse was over, Castiel was back, and they were settling down for a bit.

And if he took a long, hot shower, it was just because he was happy to be alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel woke to the sound of screaming, strong hands restraining him as he struggled to get free.

“Cas! Dammit, Cas, you’re safe.”

He forced his eyes open to see Dean’s face inches from his own, green eyes fierce and freckles standing out against pale skin. “Dean.”

“Yeah. You gonna calm down? We’re going to get the cops called on us.”

Castiel realized that Sam was at the door, explaining to someone that his cousin had had a nightmare and apologizing for the noise. The self-deprecating charm that Sam was so good at was evident as he said, “He just got back from Iraq.”

Dean shook his head, putting a finger to Castiel’s lips. “Hang tight.”

“We’re really sorry. It’s been a tough transition.” Sam’s voice was conciliatory. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

When he’d finally convinced the other person to leave, Sam shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “I think we should probably get out of here.”

Dean nodded. “We’ll stop for coffee on the way out of town.” He gave Castiel’s shoulder a pat. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said helplessly. “I didn’t mean—”

“You can’t control what you dream about, Cas.” Dean was clearly sympathetic. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, being human sucks ass.”

Castiel dragged on his jeans and the dress shoes he’d been wearing the day before. He saw the look that Sam and Dean exchanged, and wondered if he’d done something wrong, but Castiel couldn’t bear to ask. He knew that he was a burden already.

Climbing into the backseat, Castiel noted that some of the aches in his limbs had eased, although his t-shirt was sticking to his skin, and the warm summer air did nothing to cool him down.

“You okay?” Sam craned his neck to look at him from his spot in the driver’s seat.

He nodded shakily. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Forget it,” Sam replied. He reached back to squeeze Castiel’s arm. “See if you can’t get some sleep, okay?

Castiel closed his eyes, leaning his head against the glass once again, trying to lose himself in sleep before the uncertainty overwhelmed him.

~~~~~

Dean pulled in to Singer’s Salvage Yard with a sense of relief. Castiel had had at least two nightmares just in the seven hours they’d been on the road. Sam had managed to wake Cas up before the screaming started the first time, but Dean had been forced to pull over the second.

“Fucking angels,” he muttered under his breath, giving Sam’s shoulder a shake to rouse him, then reaching back to do the same for Cas. “We’re here.”

Castiel blinked sleepily, wide blue eyes almost childlike. “Where is here?”

“Bobby’s,” Dean explained, climbing out of the driver’s seat and stretching, working the kinks out of tight muscles.

Castiel wasn’t moving quite as stiffly when he climbed out of the backseat, and the exhaustion that had shaded his eyes was gone, too. Dean, on the other hand, felt as though he’d been run over by a truck. Between driving for a good part of the night, and averaging only a few hours of sleep a night over the last year, Dean’s exhaustion reminded him that he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

He wanted a shower, a beer, and a bed—and not necessarily in that order.

Bobby ambled out of his house, his familiar face set in its usual gruff welcome.

“Dean. Glad to see you’re in one piece.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.” Dean turned back to Castiel. “You remember Cas, right?”

Bobby grunted. “Hard to forget with an entrance like that.”

“Mr. Singer.” Castiel inclined his head gravely.

“Well, don’t just stand there like lumps. I’ve got a pot of chili on the stove.”

Dean grinned and grabbed his bag, tossing Sam’s in his direction. “Let’s go.” Bobby’s chili was legendary, and he wasn’t missing it.

He glanced behind him once to make sure Castiel was following, then trailed Bobby inside, dropping his bag just inside the door before heading to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Dean and Sam had full bowls, loaded up with chili, cheese, and crumbled saltine crackers. Sam let out a happy sigh as he stuffed the first overloaded spoonful in his mouth.

Dean spared a moment to look at Castiel, who seemed a little bewildered by the shredded cheese and saltines sitting on the table.

“Here.” Dean loaded Castiel’s serving up, then pushed the bowl back across the table. “Go ahead. Try it.”

Castiel took one cautious bite, then a second more enthusiastic one. “This is very good, Mr. Singer.”

“Bobby,” the older man corrected him. “There’s plenty more on the stove.”

Castiel made it through two bowls, adding plenty of cheese but no saltines to the second. Considering that the guy had been human for all of 24 hours, he was doing remarkably well.

“I got something to show you,” Bobby announced, looking at Dean. “You two can do the dishes.”

Sam looked as though he was about to protest, but Castiel cut him off. “I’ve never done the dishes.”

Dean smirked. “Good. Sam can show you.”

Sam sighed. “Come on, Cas. It’s not that hard.”

Dean grabbed his beer and followed Bobby outside. “What’s up?”

Bobby handed him a card. “I told Ted you’d call him and bring the Impala by. He said it was the only reference he’d need if it was in as good a shape as I said.”

He stared at the business card. “I don’t get it.”

“Sam called a couple of days before you put Lucifer back in the Pit, said you’d need recovery time when you cleaned up.”

The implications of Bobby’s explanation sunk in slowly. “Sam called before we’d finished?”

“He said he was sure you’d get it done.” Bobby took a long, slow sip of his beer. “And he knew you’d both need time to recover. Speaking of, know someone who might have a house for you to rent, too.”

“We just talked about this yesterday,” Dean protested.

Bobby shrugged. “Sam said he was going to talk you into it.”

Dean let out a disbelieving chuckle and shook his head, knowing that Sam would have been able to do just that. He wasn’t too surprised that his little brother was looking out for him; Sam had been doing that a lot over the past year. “Yeah, all right. We’ll go look tomorrow.”

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. “No rush.”

Dean found himself unable to meet Bobby’s eyes, seeing the pride there. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen the same expression on his dad’s face.

He was almost grateful when his cell phone rang, and Dean dug it out of his pocket. “Yeah?”

“Is—is Dean Winchester there?”

The voice obviously belonged to a girl, probably a pretty young one, but Dean didn’t think she sounded familiar. “Who is this?”

“Is this Mr. Winchester?”

She sounded very close to tears, and Dean gentled his voice. “Yeah, this is Dean. Who is this?”

“C-Claire Novak.”

The memories came flooding back after just a few seconds—Jimmy Novak and his young, picture-perfect family, broken apart in one awful moment, Jimmy bleeding out and begging to be Castiel’s vessel again to spare his daughter the same fate.

“What’s wrong, Claire? Where’s your mom?” Dean couldn’t remember the name of Jimmy’s wife at the moment—even if her face was burned on his memory.

“She died. They killed her. They were demons, like the ones that came last time, and their eyes were black.” Her voice hitched and trembled, and Dean sensed that she was close to losing it completely, which would not be good. He needed answers from her if he was going help.

“Where are you, kiddo?” Dean asked more urgently, using the same voice he’d used on Sam when his brother was little and freaking out.

“At the neighbor’s house. Mrs. Olson talked to the social worker, and they said I could stay with her until my family came.”

“Is she with you?” Dean asked.

“No.” She sniffed. “She wouldn’t understand about my dad. Do you know where he is?”

Dean wished he had better news for her. “No. Your dad—” He stopped, uncertain of how he was supposed to explain what had happened to a kid.

Claire spared him the effort. “He’s with mommy, isn’t he?”

He blew out a breath, and confirmed. “Yeah, but I’m going to take care of this. Do you have anybody else you can stay with?”

“No.” Her voice, which had steadied, began to tremble again. “I thought maybe…”

Dean knew what she’d thought, and he couldn’t blame her for hanging onto the hope that her dad would someday return. There weren’t going to be any happy endings for Jimmy Novak, however.

“Here’s what I want you to tell your neighbor, okay? I want you to tell her that your dad’s brother, your Uncle Cas, is coming with his friend to pick you up.” He waited for her acknowledgment, and when she didn’t respond, he added, “Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’re going to be there as soon as we can, maybe tomorrow afternoon, maybe the day after at the latest. I’ll call when we get there.”

There was a moment of silence, and Claire asked, “He still looks like him, doesn’t he?”

Dean knew exactly what she was asking, in spite of the confusion in pronouns. “Yeah, he does.”

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and then she said, “Okay.”

“We’ll see you soon.” Dean hung up the phone, and turned to Bobby, who was staring at him. “I’ll let Sam take care of the house.”

“What the hell’s going on, Dean?” Bobby demanded. “That sounds like trouble.”

“Remember what we told you about Cas’ vessel?” When Bobby nodded, Dean continued, “That was his kid. His wife is dead, maybe because of demons.”

Bobby’s eyes went wide. “And you’re just going to take her in, like she’s some stray?”

Dean shoved the phone into his pocket and began heading up towards the house. “It’s what we do, Bobby.”

Bobby hurried to catch up. “Yeah, it’s what you do, but I don’t remember raising a kid being part of the job description.”

“This is my fault, my responsibility,” Dean insisted in a low voice. “I started this, remember? If I hadn’t broken the first seal, Cas wouldn’t have had to come, and Jimmy Novak would still be with his family.”

“You can’t take responsibility for every damn thing that happens!” Bobby was about as exasperated as Dean had ever seen him, and that was saying something.

“No, but I can for this one.” Dean set his jaw. “It’s just for now. Maybe…” He trailed off, unable to come up with a scenario where Claire would be able to go home; as far as he knew, she didn’t have one to go to.

For right now, however, all Dean could see was Jimmy’s desperate face when he’d seen Castiel behind his daughter’s eyes. He’d begged for Cas to take him instead, and that kind of sacrifice was something Dean understood. He hated to let it go to waste—which was exactly what would happen if there were demons after the girl.

He heard Bobby mutter something under his breath about fool Winchesters and their tendency to take on the weight of the world, but Dean ignored him. On this occasion, he only had one choice.

~~~~~

Castiel had remained mostly silent during the argument that ensued after Dean announced that he and Cas were going to pick up Claire Novak and bring her back, and Sam was going to find a house.

Sam had a list of reasons why they were not equipped to take care of a child, the first and foremost of which was because they were hunters. “You remember what it was like growing up like that!” Sam exclaimed.

Dean shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad, Sam.”

“She should be able to have a normal life.”

“Newsflash, Sam, she’s not going to have a normal life.” Dean sighed. “Look, I get what you’re saying, but this is the right thing to do.” He motioned to Castiel. “Besides, if we have to hunt, Cas can stay with her.”

Castiel was beginning to wish that he’d followed Bobby’s example and left the room. Bobby had announced that he wasn’t getting stuck in the middle of this argument and had disappeared. Unfortunately, Castiel had the sense that he was intimately involved, and therefore couldn’t just leave.

“Cas?” Sam prompted, and Castiel realized that he hadn’t been listening. “You don’t know anything about kids, do you?”

“She’s not a baby, Sam,” Dean inserted. “She’s what? Ten? Twelve? I was taking care of you when I was four.”

“She’s not family!” Sam protested.

“Yes, she is.” Castiel’s assertion surprised himself. “She is Jimmy Novak’s, and therefore I am the closest thing to family that she has.”

Castiel understood the responsibility that Dean clearly felt for Claire; he felt it, too. If he had not selected Jimmy Novak as his vessel, if he had not gone against orders and been recalled to heaven, this would not have happened.

Sam seemed to deflate at that. “Okay, fair enough.”

“I’m not saying this is an ideal solution,” Dean admitted. “Or even that it’s a long term solution, but it’s the only one we’ve got.”

Sam looked at the ceiling as though it had the answers they were looking for. “Fine. Why do I get left behind? What if you need me?”

“We’re going to need a place to go when we’ve picked up the girl, and Cas isn’t going to be able to take care of it.”

Sam sighed. “I’ll take care of it, but I want you to call me if you run into trouble.”

“It’s a deal,” Dean replied. “Cas is going to need some identification.”

“I’ll take care of it in the morning,” Sam promised. “While you take Cas shopping.”

Castiel frowned. “Shopping?”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, no offense, but you look like you fell into a thrift store. You’re going to need to look better than that if we want to avoid getting the cops on our tails.”

“Or avoid having an Amber Alert put out,” Dean added with a thoughtful look at Castiel. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but you’ll be taking him. I’ll make the I.D.”

“Not a chance,” Sam shot back. “You want to do this, you can take care of the shopping.”

Dean sighed. “Fine. We’ll get Cas something else to wear, you get the I.D. made, and we’ll take off as soon as we can.”

Sam smirked. “Good. If you’re going to be out of town, that means I get the guest room. Good night!”

Castiel watched as Sam headed upstairs, and Dean grunted. “Jerk.”

“Why does that make him a jerk?”

“Because that leaves us with the couch and the floor.”

“You take the couch. You slept on the floor last night, and you’re still stiff.”

Dean gave him a dirty look. “I’m fine. Don’t you be turning into a nursemaid, too. I get enough of that from Sam.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Do you always have to do that?” Dean demanded. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to read my mind now that you’re not an angel.”

Castiel stared at the tops of his shoes. “I didn’t read your mind. I know you, Dean, perhaps better than you know yourself.”

Dean stared at him. “You know, that’s really freaky.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget it, man.” Dean helped Castiel make up his bed on the floor before stretching out on the couch. “You up for this, Cas?”

“Up for what?” Castiel followed Dean’s lead, his head just below Dean’s.

Dean propped himself up on one arm. “You’re going to have to pretend to be Claire’s uncle, and you haven’t even gotten the hang of being human yet.”

“I can do this, Dean.” Castiel thought he might be able to do anything if only Dean asked.

And Castiel knew that this was why he’d fallen, because Dean had replaced his Father—even if his Father was absent.

Dean smiled. “Yeah. Just—I don’t know. Try to put yourself in her shoes, and you’ll be okay.”

“But will she?” Castiel asked. “Because this is my fault.”

Dean took an audible breath. “Maybe. We’ll make it right, Cas. Now, get some sleep. We’ve got a drive in the morning.”

Castiel closed his eyes obediently, willing sleep to come, but he couldn’t close his eyes without remembering Jimmy Novak’s face—his face, now. Jimmy had been so desperate to save his daughter, so intent on sparing her his fate, and Castiel had granted his wish, knowing that Jimmy, the consummate family man, would never see his daughter again.

And now…what? Castiel might be human, but he didn’t fit; this wasn’t what he’d wanted, although he’d been honest with Dean. He would take a mortal’s lifetime over an eternity of torture, but that didn’t mean Castiel didn’t have regrets.

Even if following Dean Winchester was not one of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean couldn’t quite figure out when his life had become so fucked up. Sam, of course, would argue that their lives had always been fucked up, but Dean liked hunting, and considered it part of normal.

Helping a fallen angel pick out new clothing was not within his definition of “normal” in any universe.

“C’mon, Cas. It’s not that hard.”

The only response was a grunt from the dressing room, and Dean leaned back against the wall with a sigh. He hated shopping at the best of times, but taking someone else—someone who had no idea what a relatively normal person wore on a daily basis—

It sucked.

“I’m done.” Castiel emerged from the dressing room, his arms full of clothing. “It all seems to fit.”

“Did you try it all on?” Dean asked, trying to remain patient. Castiel hadn’t seen the point in trying things on, pointing out that Dean never tried his clothes on. Dean had countered that he knew which sizes to buy, and when Cas had the same information, he could avoid the dressing rooms, too.

“Yes.” Cas sounded pissy, with an expression to match. “I’m not a child, Dean.”

“Never said you were,” Dean agreed amiably. “But you’re new to this thing.”

“I don’t like it.”

Castiel was nearly pouting, and Dean found himself torn between sympathy and laughter. Cas had nothing on Sammy when it came to puppy dog eyes, but he figured it was only a matter of time before Castiel caught up. After all, actual expressions were sort of new to him.

“Being a human doesn’t totally suck,” Dean assured him.

Castiel frowned. “I thought you said that being human ‘sucks ass.’”

Dean sighed. “Okay, yes, it does sometimes, but there are things about being human that definitely don’t suck.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Name something that doesn’t suck.”

“Sex,” Dean replied readily. “And pie. That’s for starters.”

“That is what you meant when you said that there were things worth fighting for.”

Castiel’s voice was flat, as though he still didn’t believe Dean, and Dean wondered what the hell had happened to him. Cas had seemed fine the day before, even determined.

“Yeah, among other things. Family, for one.” Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Castiel shook his head. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Told you to take the couch.”

“I don’t believe it was being on the floor that prevented me from sleeping.” Castiel looked down, and the fluorescent lights caused his skin to look even paler than usual against his dark hair and stubble.

Dean made a mental note to discuss shaving with Castiel in case he hadn’t figured it out already.

For a moment, Dean considered pressing Cas for details; Sam probably would have prodded until he got answers. He wasn’t Sam, though, and he understood not wanting to talk about feelings.

“Let’s get out of here.” Dean turned and began leading the way towards the front of the store. “Sam should be done by now.”

Castiel’s footsteps echoed behind him, the soles of his dress shoes squeaking a bit on the dirty gray tile.

Dean figured that the sooner they got out of Wal-Mart the better; that place would suck the joy right out of anyone.

~~~~~

In truth, Castiel hadn’t slept at all. When he had heard Dean’s breathing deepen and even out above him, he had forced himself to stay awake, knowing the nightmares that awaited him.

What he couldn’t tell Dean, what he couldn’t explain, was that in the darkness, loneliness had begun to set in. He had never been so alone before; Castiel had always been in communion with his brothers, and he’d had Jimmy’s presence in the vessel.

Not for the first time, Castiel wondered how humans could stand it, being so alone all the time, never knowing true communion with another.

As he pulled on his new clothing, Castiel caught sight of himself in the mirror, and he wondered if he’d ever feel comfortable inside this body. While he hadn’t lied—here was infinitely better than where he’d been before—Castiel wondered whether oblivion wouldn’t have been best of all.

Castiel left the sanctuary of the bathroom to find Sam waiting for him.

“Here. This should pass inspection.” Sam handed him a driver’s license and a flimsy piece of blue cardboard with “Cas Novak” printed on it. “I used Jimmy’s license and social security card, and just altered the name,” Sam explained. “Jimmy isn’t around to contest it, and it should be good enough to get you what you need.”

“What will I need?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. A job eventually, I guess, although that’s up for debate. Depends on whether we start hunting again.”

“I thought you didn’t want to hunt anymore.”

Sam stared at the floor. “Giving up hunting is harder than you might think, Cas. Once you know what’s out there—after everything we’ve seen—you can’t just let people die.”

“Surely there are other hunters,” Castiel objected, although he wasn’t sure why the idea of Sam and Dean hunting again bothered him so much.

Sam shook his head. “Not after the apocalypse. A lot of them were killed.” He managed a weak smile. “There weren’t all that many of us to start with, but now…”

Castiel wondered if he was the reason that the brothers weren’t immediately going back to hunting, and he felt a pang of guilt. It must have shown on his face, because Sam immediately said, “We need this break, Cas.”

“How bad was this last year?” Castiel asked quietly.

Sam’s silence answered the question better than words could have.

~~~~~

Dean drove into Pontiac, Illinois, mid-afternoon the following day, casting curious glances at Castiel the whole time. He wanted to see if Cas had any reaction to his surroundings, but so far Cas had merely looked out the window with the same wide-eyed expression he’d displayed over the course of the drive.

The route to Jimmy Novak’s neighborhood was ingrained in Dean’s memory, the neatly kept lawns and well-maintained homes as foreign as the moon. He pulled up in front of Jimmy’s house, parking on the street, across from the neighbor’s.

“You ready for this?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

Castiel met Dean’s gaze straight-on, his blue polo shirt intensifying the color of his eyes—and Dean had definitely not encouraged Castiel to choose that shirt for that reason. “Yes.”

“Claire might want to hug you,” Dean warned him. “You’ll have to hug her back unless we want it to look strange.”

“I know, Dean.”

“And, um—” Dean wasn’t sure how to broach this topic, but he didn’t want Castiel to give the ruse away. “They’re probably going to think we’re together; we might want to let them.”

“Together?”

Trust Castiel not to understand. “You know, together.”

Dean willed Cas to catch on without further explanation and watched as understanding dawned.

“Oh. Oh!”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re going to wonder why Claire’s uncle showed up with a friend in tow, and they’re going to reach the obvious conclusion.” Dean shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to let people think what they want.”

“If you think it’s best,” Castiel replied with equanimity.

Dean raised his eyebrows, having expected something akin to distaste. Instead, Castiel appeared to be willing to go along with anything and everything that Dean suggested.

“Let’s do this.” Dean led the way out of the car, smoothing his button down shirt nervously. Everything rode on being able to convince anyone and everyone that they were just an ordinary couple come to pick a niece up after a horrible tragedy.

Dean had double-checked Mrs. Olsen’s address before they’d left Sioux Falls, and he pushed Cas at the door. “Ring the doorbell.”

Castiel gave him a hesitant look and did as he was told. The woman who answered the door was a short, plump woman with short brown hair, shot through with gray. “Yes?” There was suspicion in her voice and eyes, and Dean gave Castiel a nudge.

“I’m Cas Novak. Jimmy’s brother.” Castiel stuck his hand out in as human a gesture as Dean could have hoped for. “We came as soon as we could.”

Mrs. Olsen smiled uncertainly. “You know, Amelia never mentioned that Jimmy had a brother.”

Dean just managed to keep a pleasant smile on his face when Castiel reached back to grab his hand. “My brother and I didn’t always see eye to eye. I’m sorry for that now.”

“Uncle Cas!” The blond girl that Dean easily recognized as Claire flung herself past Mrs. Olsen and into Castiel’s arms. To his credit, Castiel immediately pulled the girl into a tight hug and pressed his lips to the top of Claire’s head.

Dean could see that Claire’s actions, and Cas’ response had put Mrs. Olsen’s mind at ease—or at least more at ease.

“Why don’t you both come inside?” Mrs. Olsen suggested. “I’ll make some tea.”

Tea was the last thing that Dean wanted; he would have preferred a good, stiff drink. Dean just hoped they could get through this interview without any trouble.

~~~~~

Castiel tried not to shift uncomfortably as Claire clutched at his hand and Dean charmed Mrs. Olsen. After inviting them inside, she had commented on how much he looked like his brother. “You’re just his spitting image, Mr. Novak.”

“Cas, please,” he’d responded. “And yes, I’ve heard that before.”

Mrs. Olsen had bustled around, making tea and putting out a plate of cookies; Claire hadn’t let go of him, and Castiel suspected that she was seeking the comfort of the familiar.

He’d never been the guardian of a child, had never had much contact with children, and now he was responsible for one.

“What do you do?” Mrs. Olsen asked as she held a cup out to Dean.

Dean smiled his best charming, self-deprecating smile. “I’m a mechanic, specializing in restoring classic cars, and Cas here is in the ministry.”

Mrs. Olsen appeared uncertain and a little uncomfortable, but she was too polite to question Dean further. Instead, she changed the subject, asking Dean where he’d grown up; Castiel assumed that she already believed she knew where he’d grown up.

Dean responded with well-rehearsed half-truths, telling her that his father had been in the military, and they had moved around a lot. Castiel wasn’t sure how Dean managed to casually mention that his mother had died when he was a child, and he’d raised his younger brother, but the information garnered immediate sympathy from Mrs. Olsen.

“I’m sorry you had to miss Amelia’s funeral,” Mrs. Olsen said after she’d asked Claire to take the tea tray to the kitchen.

Castiel attempted to look both somber and regretful. “I’m afraid it couldn’t be helped. We came as quickly as we could once we heard.”

Mrs. Olsen forced a smile. “Of course. Well, when we told social services that Claire’s uncle was coming, the social worker seemed relieved. If you ask me, Rebecca is a little overwhelmed right now.”

“Aren’t they always?” Dean asked with a wry smile.

She returned the smile and nodded. “I’m sure. It was certainly a weight off my mind as well.”

“Claire is my responsibility,” he asserted quietly. “I only wish that my brother were here now.”

Mrs. Olsen leaned over and patted his hand. “I’m sure this must be a terrible trial for you, too. Claire was just so relieved when she found out you were coming. I know you’ll be a great support for each other.”

Dean gave him an approving look and rose. “We should get going. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and a full day of work tomorrow.”

They left Claire inside to say her goodbyes to Mrs. Olsen while they put Claire’s belongings in the trunk. “I need to check out the house,” Dean said in a low voice. “I’ll leave you with Claire at the motel, and we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Castiel’s heart sank. “But what if something comes after us?”

Dean hesitated, then dug around in the trunk, coming up with a familiar knife. “Use this.”

“Dean, I—”

“Look, I know you’re no expert, but you’re going to have to learn sometime. I’ll get you up to speed soon, and we’ll salt the room, but for right now, you’re all Claire’s got.”

Castiel stared at the knife in his hand and nodded slowly. Sam would know how to do this, he thought. Sam would know how to protect a child; Jimmy would know how to comfort his daughter.

And he was a poor substitute for both.

~~~~~

Dean slipped through the backdoor of the Novaks’ house just as the sun went down with a sigh of relief. He’d meant what he’d said, about Claire being his responsibility, but the reality was still overwhelming.

Maybe it would have been easier had Claire been a boy; Dean knew how to deal with boys. Not only had he been one, but he’d also raised Sam. Instead, he was looking at taking care of a girl—three men with no experience with little girls, four if you included Bobby.

All the usual signs of demon activity were present in the narrow beam of his flashlight—sulfur on the windowsill and threshold, and blood splattered the floor and walls. Unless Amelia had managed to hurt one of her attackers, the trail of blood and droplets on the wall indicated that Amelia’s end hadn’t come quickly. The overturned furniture and strewn cushions indicated that the demons had been looking for something.

He knelt on the floor next to the overturned chair that lay next to the outline. The padded arms were bloody where a person’s wrists might be tied, and blood dotted the cushion as well.

Dean sat back on his heels and considered the scene. He didn’t like to consider where the evidence was leading him, and he knew he’d need confirmation from Claire. Getting that confirmation meant questioning the girl, however, something he wasn’t keen on. Claire was already traumatized enough.

If this had been a regular case, Dean would have impersonated an FBI agent and claimed that the MO for Amelia’s death was the same as a series of serial killings. They couldn’t risk someone recognizing him, though, not when he and Castiel had to get out of town clean.

Dean ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble there. After a moment’s consideration, he rose noiselessly to his feet and crossed the ransacked room. Someone had searched the place, but for what?

After poking around for a few more minutes, Dean still didn’t have any answers. He let himself out the same way he had entered, not wanting to risk being caught in the house, and drove back to the motel.

Relief crossed Castiel’s face, and he rose from one of the beds as Dean entered. “Was there any trouble?”

“No.” Dean looked at Claire, who was sitting on the other bed. “Claire, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you a few questions. It’s important.”

She nodded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Dean wondered why she wasn’t hanging on to Cas anymore, and suspected that it had finally hit her that Jimmy was gone for good.

“Did you see what happened to your mom?”

Her face went white as a sheet, and she nodded again, letting out a half-sob, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks in earnest. “Yes.”

“Do you know what they wanted?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

“Me.” Claire finally looked up to meet Dean’s eyes. “I couldn’t tell the police. They wouldn’t believe me.”

“No, they probably wouldn’t,” he agreed. Dean didn’t say that they would have chalked up her story to the terror she’d experienced and sent her to counseling. She seemed like a smart kid and had probably already figured it out for herself. “Claire, can you tell me what happened? Just take your time.”

Claire sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, hiccupping a little. “We heard a noise in the middle of the night. Mom made me hide in the attic.”

“Why didn’t she hide, too?” Dean asked.

Claire rubbed her eyes again, as though trying to push back the tears. “There wasn’t enough room. All of Daddy’s things are up there.”

Dean glanced up to see Castiel flushing deep red in shame. “Then what?”

“I heard them yelling.” Claire sniffled again. “I could see out through a crack in the trapdoor, and their eyes were black. They kept asking Mom where the vessel was, but she said she didn’t know what they were talking about.”

Dean waited patiently for Claire to continue; she was clearly trying to get herself under control. “They made her go downstairs, and I heard her scream a lot. I heard them looking around, but I hid in a box. It was really hot up there.”

“I’ll bet it was,” Dean replied, keeping his voice gentle and sympathetic. “How long were you up there?”

“Mom made me promise not to come down until she got me, but it was so quiet, and then the sun came up, so I came down. She was tied to the chair in the living room when I went downstairs, and…”

Claire’s words trailed off into harsh sobs, and Dean froze, feeling unspeakably awkward. After a moment, he put a hesitant arm around her shoulders, and she responded by burying her face in his chest, her thin shoulders shaking and her tears soaking through his shirt.

Dean responded the same way he had when Sam was little and had nightmares, when he was still young enough to cry at night—he held her tightly and rocked back and forth a bit, whispering promises of safety and protection.

“We’re going to get whoever or whatever did this, Claire. You’re safe now.” Dean glanced up at the sound of movement. Castiel had risen from the bed, his arms held at an awkward angle, his face twisted in some strange, complex tangle of emotions.

“I can’t,” Cas whispered, and then he bolted out of the motel room, leaving Dean with an inconsolable child, and no idea what to do next.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel had no idea how long he’d been walking; he hadn’t paid attention to the direction he’d been going, and he had no idea where he was now. Seeing Claire’s tears had been unbearable; the overwhelming guilt had made his stomach twist until he thought he was going to be sick.

Not that Castiel had ever been sick, but he’d recognized the feeling.

Spotting a bus stop, Castiel sat down heavily on the bench, rubbing sweaty palms on his khakis. He felt sweat trickling down his back in the sultry night air. Night had fallen, but the darkness brought no relief from the humid warmth.

Although Castiel knew that he should head back to the motel, he didn’t think he could face Claire or Dean.

Castiel put his head in his hands, threading trembling fingers through his hair. His stomach growled with hunger, and he let his shoulders slump, pushing everything out of his mind. For a moment, he wished that he’d never disobeyed, that he’d never fallen. Castiel wondered if it was worth it, and he found he couldn’t answer that question.

Not yet, anyway.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel forced his head up to see a young woman looking at him with concern in her eyes. She looked to be a few years younger than Sam, and she was clutching the backpack strap slung across her right shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” she repeated, taking a cautious step closer and pushing light brown hair out of her eyes. “You look a little pale.”

“No, I’m fine,” Castiel assured her.

She appeared uncertain but nodded. “Okay.”

As she walked away, Castiel realized that he needed directions back to the motel, and she seemed friendly enough to help. “Wait! Do you know where the Starlite Motel is?”

“Five blocks that way,” she replied, pointing in the opposite direction she was heading. “Then turn left. You’ll be able to see the sign from there.”

“Thank you,” he said gravely.

“Be careful!” she called.

Castiel was warmed by her concern as he began trudging towards the motel, his legs feeling like lead weights, making the six blocks back to the hotel feel like six miles. When he opened the door, Castiel’s eyes went immediately to the still figure on the bed farthest from the door.

“She’s asleep,” Dean said quietly from the edge of the other bed. Bits and pieces of a gun were laid out on a towel spread on the bed as he cleaned the barrel. “You okay?”

Castiel nodded, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Yes.”

“You hungry? I ordered pizza. It’s probably cold by now, but there are a few pieces left.”

“Yes.” Castiel crossed the room to the small table with the cardboard box. Grabbing a piece as he’d seen Dean do in the past, he took a large bite of the slice. He was so hungry, and the taste was so incredible, that he couldn’t prevent the moan of pleasure from escaping.

He caught the strange look that Dean gave him, but Castiel didn’t care. He grabbed a second slice with his free hand and sat down next to Dean on the bed.

“Where did you go?” Dean asked after a moment, his attention still focused on his gun.

Castiel took another bite, focusing on the taste of the cheese and bread and sauce, and the feel of the air conditioning as it dried his sweat. “I just went for a walk.”

“Long walk.”

“Yes.” Castiel continued to eat steadily, his hunger slowly satiated.

“You can’t just take off like that.” Dean broke the silence after a long few minutes as he began to put the gun back together. “One of us had to stay here with Claire, and what if something had happened to you?”

Castiel wished he could assure Dean that he was self-sufficient, that he could take care of himself. He was not certain that was true.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

Castiel finished his second slice of pizza, then eyed the box longingly.

“Finish it up,” Dean said. “You didn’t get dinner.”

Castiel did as he was told, still used to following orders, even if he had rebelled against heaven and everything he was.

“We should get some sleep,” Dean announced after Castiel had finished the pizza. “We have a long drive tomorrow.”

Castiel realized with a pang that Dean had stayed awake to wait for him, and that Dean would be the one who had to drive on only a few hours of sleep. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Forget it, Cas,” Dean replied gruffly. “It’s done.”

“You should take the bed,” Castiel said quickly.

“You had the floor last night.” Dean pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his bare back to Castiel, then stripping off his jeans.

Castiel cleared his throat. “The bed is big enough for both of us, Dean. If you kick, I don’t mind.”

Dean turned to look at him, and Castiel’s eye was caught in turn by the handprint on Dean’s shoulder, the tattoo on his chest, the new scars that hadn’t been there the last time Castiel had peered in on Dean half-dressed.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he appeared suspicious, although Castiel wasn’t certain why. “Yeah, alright. Just—don’t tell Sam, okay?”

“Of course.” Castiel didn’t know why Dean had asked that of him, but he readily agreed, not questioning why the idea of sharing the bed with Dean made him so happy.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, well, remember to brush your teeth.”

Castiel brushed his teeth and undressed, feeling strange as he climbed into bed next to Dean. He couldn’t see Claire over Dean’s still figure, and Castiel found he preferred that. For a moment, Castiel could pretend that it was just him and Dean.

Feeling Dean’s warmth so close to him caused Castiel to become aroused, and he had to exercise all his self-control to not touch himself. It was too risky, with Dean lying beside him, and Claire in a bed across the room.

Instead, Castiel stared up at the ceiling and thought about what Dean had said, about how being human didn’t suck.

Castiel added pizza to the list of reasons.

~~~~~

Dean woke up the next morning, feeling warmer than he had in a while. After a moment, he realized that there was a bare chest pressed up against his back, and an arm thrown across his waist. He knew that the appropriate reaction would be to jump out of bed, to berate Castiel for getting too close, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to move. He could feel Castiel’s warm breath on the back of his neck, and it was way more erotic than Dean thought it had any right to be.

Castiel’s arm tightened around Dean’s waist, and Dean felt Cas’ nose press closer to the back of his neck as he nuzzled Dean’s shoulder.

Dean drew in a deep breath, then released it, trying to control his reaction to Castiel’s proximity.

Closing his eyes, Dean relaxed, reveling in the sense in being so close to another human being. It had been a long time—not since a few weeks into the apocalypse, when his bedmate for the evening had tried to kill him.

He’d checked her for possession, of course, but she’d come up clean—and Dean had had a very narrow escape. He’d figured it was too dangerous to pick up random women after that—a decision which Sam had reinforced through his nagging, and they had been much too busy anyway.

Dean must have drifted off again, because when he opened his eyes, Claire was sitting cross-legged on the other bed, watching him and Castiel with narrowed eyes. Feeling his face flush deeply, Dean extricated himself from Castiel’s embrace.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

When Claire didn’t continue, Dean asked, “You okay?”

She nodded silently.

“You hungry?”

Claire tilted her head. “Yes,” she finally said after some consideration.

“Anything you want?”

“Pancakes?”

Dean grinned at her. “A woman after my own heart.”

Claire’s answering smile was a reward.

“Get dressed,” Dean advised. “We’ll pack up and grab breakfast before we head out.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, and Dean shook Castiel awake. “Cas, man. We have to go.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Dean realized that Castiel hadn’t had a nightmare for the first time since they’d found him in the field. “We need to get going.”

“Is there time for a shower?” Castiel asked sleepily.

“No, sorry, man. You can get a shower once we get back to Bobby’s.”

Castiel accepted Dean’s response without argument, rising to dress immediately. Dean decided that he could get used to this, since Sam seemed to argue with him all the time.

Castiel had just finished pulling his t-shirt over his head when Claire exited the bathroom, and they stared at one another in silence for a long time. “Hello, Claire,” Castiel finally said.

Claire stared at him, then turned to Dean. “Are we going to get breakfast soon?”

“Yeah, kid,” Dean replied, realizing that Claire was going to give Cas the silent treatment, which he knew sucked from experience.

Dean started to throw their clothing into a duffel bag, his and Cas’ stuff mixed together. He figured they could sort it out later; right now, Dean just wanted to get out of the hotel room—not that being in the car would be any better.

Small space, a traumatized kid who refused to speak to the guy wearing her dad’s face, and a traumatized angel who wasn’t quite certain he wanted to be human. Great.

The knock on the door interrupted his packing. “Housekeeping!”

“Come back in fifteen minutes,” Dean called out, stuffing a dirty shirt into his duffel.

Looking back later, Dean knew that he probably should have expected trouble; it had all been entirely too easy up to that point.

The door burst open as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and Dean had a split second to take in the sight of the two men and their black eyes. He had no idea where the knife was, which was definitely unlike him.

Castiel threw himself at the first man, narrowly avoiding the knife he was holding and scuffing the salt line in the process.

Dean swore. “Cas! Knife!”

“Bedside table!” Castiel managed to gasp.

Castiel was just barely holding his own, tangling the demon up in the doorway so the second one couldn’t get through. “In the bathroom, and lock the door!” Dean shouted at Claire.

She gave a little yelp, but she did as she was told. Dean threw himself across the bed and scrabbled in the drawer for the knife. The hilt felt as though it belonged in his hand, and he bolted towards Castiel.

Cas was hanging on for dear life, his split lip dripping blood on the floor. The demon managed to backhand Castiel, and he flew across the room and hit the wall. Dean stepped in, stabbing the demon in his stomach and twisting the knife. He tossed the body towards the other demon, but it only slowed him down for a split second.

The second demon strode into the room, and he seized Dean with his right hand by the throat, squeezing hard. With his left hand, he grabbed Dean’s wrist, and Dean could feel the bones in his arm grind together as the knife dropped from his nerveless fingers.

The demon suddenly released his throat, and Dean dropped to the floor, falling to one knee as he coughed, the demon collapsing in front of him, knife sticking out of the side of his neck. Dean glanced over at Castiel, who was on his knees next to Dean.

“Are you okay?” Castiel gasped out.

“Should be asking you that.” Dean took in Castiel’s injuries—the blood trickling down his temple and his chin, bruises already forming on pale skin. Dean held up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two,” Castiel grunted, then looked at the dead body on the floor. “That was a lucky shot,” he admitted.

“Lucky or not, it was a good one,” Dean said, clambering to his feet and extending a hand to Cas. “We need to get out of here before someone calls the cops.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ll get the bags.”

Dean knocked on the bathroom door. “Claire? It’s safe to come out now.”

“How do I know it’s really you?” she called through the flimsy wood.

It was a decent question, Dean had to admit. “You know how to tell if someone is possessed?”

“No.”

“You say christo, and see how they react.”

“You say Christ in Latin?”

“That’s right.”

“But you said it.”

“So, I must not be possessed, right?” Dean watched as the door swung slowly open, and he made sure that he was between her and the dead bodies. “Come on. Cas is loading up the car. We need to leave.”

Claire swallowed, and Dean could see the tear tracks on her face. “Are they dead?”

Dean didn’t see the point in lying to her, so he didn’t. “Yeah, kid, they’re dead, but it was better them than us.”

“How come the salt didn’t hold them back?”

“Salt lines aren’t perfect,” Dean replied. “Come on. Cover your eyes; I’ll get you out of here.” He wasn’t about to blame Cas in front of her, although he’d need to have a word with Castiel later about not sacrificing himself so readily.

Claire shook her head stubbornly. “I think they killed my mom. I want to see them dead.”

Dean couldn’t argue with the sentiment. He led her out of the motel room, towards the car. Castiel was already in the passenger seat, his head resting against the glass. Claire climbed into the backseat behind Cas, and as Dean walked around the car, he could hear her say, “Thank you.”

Dean knew that his smile matched the one that touched Cas’ lips.


	5. Chapter 5

They had stopped by a bookstore in Peoria to get Claire a few books to keep her occupied during the long drive, but otherwise hadn’t taken any breaks from driving, wanting to get as far away from Pontiac and the dead demons as possible.

An hour out from Peoria, Castiel glanced in the rearview mirror and caught sight of tears rolling down her round cheeks.

Castiel had no idea how to respond, and he turned his gaze to Dean in a silent question.

Dean looked up, seeing what Castiel had, and shook his head. “You hungry, Cas?”

“Not especially,” Castiel replied. Then, seeing the quick flash of disapproval on Dean’s face, he amended, “But I will be soon.”

“Claire?” Dean asked. “You up for something to eat?”

There was a sniff from the backseat. “I guess.”

“We’ll find a diner somewhere,” Dean promised. “One that serves pie.”

“Pie?” Claire sounded dubious, and Castiel raised an eyebrow, waiting to see Dean’s reaction. “Why pie?”

Dean threw a quick look over his shoulder at her. “That’s not the right question. The right question is ‘why not pie’?”

That startled a smile out of Claire, and Dean grinned. “I never met a pie I didn’t like, although some are better than others. You got a favorite?”

“Mom—” She stopped abruptly.

“It helps if you talk about them,” Dean said softly. “If you can remember the good things.”

Castiel sat, silent and still, feeling as though if he moved, he would break the moment.

“Mom used to make a peach pie that my dad really liked. It had cream cheese.”

“That sounds like a winner,” Dean replied.

Claire paused before she said, “I could probably make it.”

“We’ll have to give it a try.” Dean turned to Castiel. “What do you think, Cas?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “I think I’d like to try it. I’ve never had pie.”

“Do you—do you remember my dad?”

“I will always remember your father,” Castiel said quietly. “I will always be grateful to him. He loved you very much.”

Claire didn’t respond, and Castiel found it impossible to hazard a look into the backseat to see her face. He was too afraid of what he’d see.

~~~~~

Dean didn’t know that he’d ever been so happy to see Singer’s Salvage Yard. He was well aware that the tension in the car could have been higher during the rest of the drive, but it had been bad enough. Dean had been dealing with victims almost his entire life, but it was different when he already felt a connection.

“Is this where we’re staying?” Claire’s voice was carefully neutral, and Dean recognized the signs of good breeding when he heard it. She was trying not to sound dismayed, and Dean couldn’t blame her, not after seeing the Novaks’ house.

Poor kid. She had gone from solid middle class suburbia to something well below overnight.

“For right now,” Dean replied. “Just until we get our own place.”

“Okay.”

She sounded subdued, and Dean twisted to look at her as soon as he’d parked in front of Bobby’s house. “I know this is weird, but we’re going to keep you safe, and we’re the only ones who can. Everybody around here, me, Cas, Sam, Bobby—we all want to make sure you’re all right.”

Claire nodded silently, and Dean let it go. “Right. Let’s get inside.”

Castiel was as silent as Claire as they followed Dean inside the house, Castiel bringing up the rear in what Dean suspected was a depressed silence.

Bobby and Sam were talking in the kitchen when Dean walked through the house. “Hey, how did it go?” Sam greeted them, referring to Dean’s earlier phone call.

“We didn’t have any trouble on the drive back. Claire, you remember Sam, right? And that’s Bobby.”

“Hi.” Claire sounded reserved, but not sullen, which was definitely an improvement.

“You tired, Claire?” Dean asked. “Hungry?”

She shook her head. “Can I read my book?”

“Sure,” Dean replied. “Bobby, you want to show her where the study is?”

“Of course. Come on, Claire.”

Although she appeared hesitant, she followed Bobby willingly enough. Castiel sat down at the kitchen table next to Sam while Dean grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot. It was old, and it tasted a little burned, but Dean sipped at it anyway. “Okay, Sammy. What’s the deal with the house?” Dean asked

“We’ve got it if we want it. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, decent kitchen and a good sized backyard.”

“Garage?” Dean inquired, sitting down across from his brother.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, two stall. And I’ve got a job.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up. “Already?”

“Bobby knew somebody.” Sam’s dimples flashed in a quick, knowing grin. “Bartending.”

“That works,” Dean acknowledged. “I need to go see Ted tomorrow with the Impala.”

“Who is Ted?” Castiel asked, speaking for the first time.

Dean shrugged. “Friend of Bobby’s who’s a mechanic. He has his own shop.”

“And you’ll be working for him?” Castiel appeared puzzled. “I thought you were going to continue hunting.”

“Ted understands about this sort of thing. Like I said, he’s a friend of Bobby’s.”

“Bobby has many friends,” Castiel observed dryly.

Sam shrugged. “Bobby knows everybody. Anyway, the house is about half-furnished; I figure we can make up the difference with garage sales and thrift stores, maybe do some dumpster diving.”

“Dumpster diving?” Castiel sounded more than a little lost, looking from Sam to Dean as though they could anchor him somehow.

Dean shared a grin with Sam. “Yeah, when you go hunt up perfectly good stuff that other people have thrown away. I’ll take you when we go.”

“I also got Claire enrolled in school,” Sam added. “They should have faxed over her records today.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Great. I guess that means I’ll drive her to school tomorrow when I go see Ted.”

“We’re going to need another vehicle,” Sam pointed out.

Dean shrugged. “We’ll get one. Bobby’ll probably have a loaner.”

Castiel shifted in his chair, and the movement drew Dean’s eyes. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Dean asked, puzzled.

“What can I do?” Castiel leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands hanging loosely between his knees. “I want to do something, Dean. I need a purpose.”

Dean winced at the faint desperation in Cas’ voice, and he tried to think of some reassurance he might offer. He supposed that he was so used to it just being him and Sam that he hadn’t given much thought to where Cas might fit. “We’ll get it figured out, I promise. Right now, though, maybe you could just get used to being human?”

Castiel nodded, rising from his seat abruptly. “Excuse me.”

Dean twisted in his chair to watch Cas leave the room, then turned to find Sam staring at him thoughtfully. “What?”

“The house is going to need wards,” Sam began slowly, his forearms resting on the table.

“And?”

“Maybe you should let Cas do it. He was an angel; he knows that kind of thing.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And maybe you should let him offer,” Sam suggested. “He needs to feel useful, Dean. I get that.”

Dean rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

“There’s something else,” Sam said slowly, his expression showing his reluctance. “I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Cas.”

“Yeah?” Dean rose to rinse his mug out in the sink.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, turning to face him. “It’s a three bedroom house.”

“So?”

“So, Claire should have her own room.”

“That goes without saying.” Dean concentrated on his dirty mug. “We can flip for the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Cas shouldn’t be in a room by himself.” Sam spoke in a rush. “With the nightmares… It’s not a good idea.”

Dean felt himself tense. “Oh, hell no. No way, Sammy.”

“We can’t risk him waking the neighbors—and Claire. She doesn’t need that kind of trauma.”

Dean knew Sam was right, but he felt as though he had to put up at least a token resistance. “No. Absolutely not. I am not sharing a room with Cas.”

“Then I can do it.” The readiness with which Sam offered told Dean just how important he thought it might be. “It wouldn’t be so bad. We can get a couple of extra-long twin beds maybe.”

Dean disliked the thought of Sam sharing a room with Castiel even more than he liked the idea of _him_ sharing a room. Besides, he still remembered how it felt to wake up with Cas’ arm flung across his chest, and Cas hadn’t had nightmares that night.

“I’ll do it,” he said with a show of reluctance, sitting back down at the table. It wouldn’t do for Sam to think he’d given in too easily. “He’s my responsibility, anyway.”

“He doesn’t have to be your burden to bear alone, Dean,” Sam said softly. “I’m here, too, remember?”

Dean felt his back go up inexplicably at that. “Cas isn’t a burden,” he snapped. Seeing the expression on Sam’s face, he amended, “Sorry, but he’s a friend. He’s…”

“I get it.” Sam’s expression was entirely _too_ knowing for Dean’s liking. He hated to think that his brother had sensed how he felt about Castiel—Dean wasn’t even sure _he_ knew how he felt about Cas. “I’m just saying that I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to have to teach him how to drive,” Sam said gently. “Technically, he has a driver’s license, but if we have to leave him alone with Claire, he’s going to need to know.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed heavily, thinking of all the things Castiel would need to know.

Sam hesitated before he added, “And how to defend himself and Claire.”

“I know. He did okay in Illinois, but he admitted that was a lucky shot.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “I know,” he repeated, thinking about all the things that Castiel would have to learn.

It was no longer about making Castiel more human; it was about getting him up to speed so he could succeed in the world he was now a part of.

Sam was gazing at him with that wide, earnest expression he usually reserved for victims they were interviewing. “You know I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Dean.”

“I know.” Dean was repeating himself. “It’s just another job, Sam. Just another hunt. We have a goal, and we figure out how to reach it. That’s all.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

~~~~~

Castiel awoke to the sound of birdsong, and his sore muscles protested as he shifted on his pallet. He rubbed his eyes and slowly levered himself up to a sitting position, seeing the empty couch and second pallet next to him; Dean and Sam were already awake. Sunlight illuminated their discarded blankets, and Castiel spent a moment just watching the dust motes floating in the streams of light.

Heaving himself up off the floor slowly, Castiel made his way to the kitchen. There was still coffee in the pot, and he poured himself a mug.

“I see you finally dragged yourself out of bed.”

The voice startled Castiel enough so that his hand jerked, sloshing coffee out of the mug, onto the floor. He turned to see Sam watching him with an amused smile. “I’m sorry,” Castiel said quickly. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam said gently. “Here. Sit down.”

Sam steered him to a seat at the kitchen table and began to mop up Castiel’s mess; Castiel thought that the Winchesters were perpetually cleaning up his messes.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Really, forget it.” Sam smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”

Castiel shrugged. “Fine. Where’s Dean?”

“He took Claire to school, then was going to stop by Ted’s. I have no idea when he’ll be back.”

Castiel realized that he was facing a day alone, with nothing to do. The prospect was depressing. “Oh. Of course.”

“Bobby said he was going to renew the wards around the property today,” Sam offered. “You could probably help him out.”

Castiel nodded, wanting to be of some kind of use. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Sam replied. “If you didn’t go with him, he’d probably ask me to help out, and I have some errands to run.”

“I want to help,” Castiel insisted.

Sam shrugged. “You asked for it.”

Castiel learned exactly what he’d asked for after lunch. Bobby made sure they both had plenty of water before they took a beat-up car on a slow circuit of the perimeter. Not too far from the entrance of the salvage yard, there was a “No Trespassing” sign posted, with a large boulder positioned near it. Castiel could only assume that it was a boundary marker, but as they got closer, he could see the faded paint.

“Have to renew the markers every so often,” Bobby grunted as he climbed out of the car and grabbed a can of paint from the backseat. “The paint fades.”

It didn’t take long for Castiel to realize that Bobby had brought him along as a courtesy, not because he needed help. Bobby went about repainting the wards without even a glance in Castiel’s direction, and Castiel hid a sigh.

At least Dean talked to him.

Bobby was putting the finishing touches on his ward when Castiel really _looked_ at it for the first time and realized that it was incomplete. For a moment, he hesitated to say anything, not wanting to anger Bobby, but Castiel remembered that Dean and Claire and Sam’s safety might depend on a strong ward, and he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, but I can make it stronger.”

Bobby looked at him, his narrowed eyes shaded under his battered trucker’s hat. “All right.” He held out the paintbrush.

Castiel stared at the lines and figures for a moment, then began to improve upon the original design. He worked quickly and confidently; this much, at least, had not changed. Castiel had always been one of the best at constructing Devil’s Traps and other sigils.

When he’d finished, Castiel turned to Bobby, who was staring at the newly constructed ward. He finally nodded. “That’s good work,” he said slowly. “I guess that means you’ll be doing the rest. Hop in.”

By the time they’d made it around the perimeter, Castiel was tired, his t-shirt sweat-soaked and dusty. He gratefully downed the glass of water Bobby offered him, then collapsed on the couch.

Castiel closed his eyes—just for a moment. He had every intention of offering his assistance to Bobby for the remainder of the afternoon, but he wanted to pause and catch his breath.

~~~~~

Dean knew the way to the middle school; he’d gone there himself for a few months when Dad had left them with Bobby on a long term hunt. Sam had done the same for a while.

Claire had been silent the entire drive, and Dean had let her be. He wasn’t going to force her to talk to him, and he had no idea what to say.

When they parked in front of the school, Dean said, “I’ll go in with you.”

“Okay.” She kept her eyes on the backpack at her feet, and Dean thought he could detect a thread of anxiety.

“Hey,” Dean said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be the new kid.”

Claire raised her eyes to his, clearly not believing him. “How would you know?”

“We moved around a lot,” Dean replied. “In fact, I went to this very school for a few months.”

Claire’s nose scrunched up. “Just a few months.”

“We moved around _a lot_,” Dean repeated with a smile. “I’m just saying—if you have any problems, if somebody bothers you, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’ll beat them up?” Claire asked with a small smile.

Dean shrugged. “If I need to.”

“What if—what if someone comes after me, like they came after my mom?” Dean heard the tremor in her voice and saw her lip tremble.

He wished he could tell her not to worry, that no one would mess with her while she was at school, but that was a lie. Dean didn’t want to lie, not when they’d probably be living together, and he’d have to deal with her disappointment when she discovered the truth.

Dean sighed. “Stay away from strangers, and try not to go off by yourself. Do you remember how to tell if someone’s a demon?”

Claire nodded. “You say _christo_.”

“Exactly.”

Her expression turned fierce. “I want to learn how to kill them.”

Dean froze for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “I’ll teach you how to defend yourself.”

She seemed to accept the compromise. “Okay.”

“Well, okay, then. Let’s get you to school before you’re late, huh?”

Dean walked Claire inside, making a beeline for the office. “Excuse me,” he said to the secretary, giving her his best smile. “This is Claire Novak. She’s starting today.”

The secretary smiled back, her cheeks turning pink. “And you are?”

“Dean Winchester. I’m her uncle.”

“Well, Mr. Winchester, it’s nice to meet you,” the secretary replied. “I’ll have a student assistant take Claire to her first class.” She smiled at him. “And maybe you could give me your phone number? Just in case of an emergency, of course.”

At one point, Dean would have happily exchanged phone numbers, but he had a newly-human angel and a traumatized kid to deal with.

Dean glanced down at Claire, whose bitch face would beat out Sam’s; she was clearly not impressed by the flirting. “Ah, I think you’ve already got an emergency contact number, but thanks for being so thorough.” He looked back at Claire. “I’ll be back to pick you up when school’s out, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Have a great day, kiddo.”

Dean felt a pang leaving her, knowing how tough this was. Still, she had to go to school, and he had to see Ted.

It turned out that Ted was short-handed, and after Ted had admired the Impala and checked out the engine, he offered Dean a job on the spot. By the time three o’clock had rolled around, Dean had finished up a Chevy Cobalt, his shirt streaked with grease.

Dean stuck his head into Ted’s office. “I have to pick up my niece from school. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Ted replied, getting heavily to his feet. He was a short, balding man, but still relatively trim for someone pushing sixty. “Thanks for your help, Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Hey, good help is hard to find, right?”

“You said it.” Ted came around the desk. “Bobby said you were renting a place for a while.”

“Sure are.”

“I hope you can stick around.”

“Me, too,” Dean replied, a little surprised to find that he meant it.

Claire was waiting outside the school with a crowd of other kids, although she wasn’t talking to anyone. She climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

“How did the day go?” Dean asked finally.

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“We’ll probably be in the new place in a few days.”

“Okay.”

“You can probably paint your room if you want.” Claire looked out the window without responding. “Maybe orange?”

Claire’s head swung around. “Orange?”

Dean shrugged. “You got a better idea? And don’t say pink. I don’t care what you say, I’m not living in a house with pink walls.”

That startled a giggle out of Claire, and Dean glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe yellow?” she suggested.

“I could probably deal with yellow,” he acknowledged. “You gonna be okay?”

Claire went back to staring out the window. “I don’t know.”

“You know, my mom died when I was four,” Dean began. “And I still miss her.”

“What about your dad?” Claire asked.

“He died a few years ago.”

“So, you’re like me.”

“Yeah, but I have Sam,” Dean replied. “And you’ve got me, Sam, and Cas.”

“I remember him, you know.”

Dean frowned. “Remember who?”

“Castiel.” Claire sniffed, blinking rapidly. “I remember how it felt to have him inside me. I said he could, because I wanted to save my dad, and I couldn’t.”

“You mad at him? It’s okay if you are, you know.”

She just shrugged, and by then they were pulling up in front of Bobby’s house. Dean changed the subject. “Sam can help you with your homework if you need.”

Claire shook her head. “It’s mostly reading.”

“Okay, then.”

Dean let her go ahead of him into the house. He was going to follow Claire into the kitchen, but he caught a glimpse of Cas sleeping on the couch and took a detour.

“Oh, hell, Cas,” Dean muttered, staring at Castiel’s sleeping figure. Cas’ face, neck, and arms were bright red; Dean remembered a few times when he or Sam had been that sunburned.

Dean sighed, then shook his head, feeling a fond exasperation and making a mental note to talk to Cas about sun block.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel’s arms, face, and the back of his neck felt like they were on fire. When Dean had woken him from his nap, Castiel had received a lecture on how he could get sunburned if his skin was exposed to the sun for a long time, especially if he didn’t already have a tan. Then he’d been recruited to help with dinner, which consisted of burgers and chips.

Castiel helped willingly, trying not to let on how uncomfortable he was all through dinner. Claire remained largely silent, responding with questions about her day with short sentences that didn’t give much real information. That left Dean, Sam, and Bobby to carry the conversation, which made for a very awkward dinner.

“I cleared out the other room upstairs,” Bobby announced as Castiel helped Sam clear the table. “If one of you boys wants to take it.”

“Sam can have it,” Dean said. “Cas and I are okay down here. I have to get up early anyway.”

Surprise flitted across Sam’s face, but he shrugged. “Thanks, Dean. I have to get to work.”

“I can help with the dishes,” Claire offered.

Bobby smiled at her. “Thanks. I’ll give you a hand while Dean takes care of Castiel.”

Bobby’s pointed look caused Castiel to stare fixedly at the wood grain of the table, feeling the heat in his face.

“I get sunburned, too, when I’m outside for too long.”

Claire’s quiet words caused Castiel to glance up to meet her eyes. Castiel knew her, of course, probably better than either of her parents had in a way, and yet there was a disconnect between them.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean said softly. “We’ll get you taken care of.”

Castiel waited until they were in the upstairs bathroom to speak. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For this.” He stared down at the bright red skin on his forearms. “I don’t know enough about being human. Even a child can take care of herself better than I—”

Dean seized his shoulders, cutting him off. “Claire’s had twelve years to learn how to be human, Cas. She had a mother and a father to help; you’ve got me.”

“You are more than enough, Dean.” Castiel looked earnestly into Dean’s eyes, willing him to believe it. “You are—” He stopped and changed tactics. “I disobeyed for you, and I would do it again.”

Dean’s expression didn’t change; he stared into Castiel’s eyes as though searching for something. Dean put a finger under Castiel’s chin, one of the few places on his face that wasn’t on fire, and tipped his head up before pressing his lips to Castiel’s.

For a moment, Castiel didn’t respond, not knowing what to do. Dean’s kiss was gentle but insistent, and Castiel began to echo his movements, opening his mouth when Dean’s tongue pressed against his lips.

Dean’s hands latched onto Castiel’s hips, and Castiel found his own hands fluttering uncertainly before landing on Dean’s upper arms, gripping the hard muscle of Dean’s biceps.

Castiel didn’t know who pulled back first, but Dean was the one to take a step back, his hands falling away.

“Go ahead and get cleaned up,” Dean said softly. “Better keep the water cool, though. It’ll feel better against that burn. When you’re out, I’ll put something on it.”

“Dean—”

“Get cleaned up,” Dean repeated. “I’ll be downstairs.”

Castiel sighed, uncertain of what the kiss had meant. He knew that Dean often was physical with those for whom he cared nothing, but he hoped that wasn’t the case this time.

Still, the kiss had been comforting, even invigorating, and Castiel thought he could add kissing Dean to the list of things that were good about being human.

~~~~~

Dean watched as Sam pulled into the salvage yard in the Impala from his spot on the bed of an ancient truck. His mind was still whirling with thoughts of Castiel and their kiss, and he’d been unable to settle for long.

“What are you still doing up?” Sam approached Dean where he sat on the back gate of the old truck he’d started working on. “I thought you had to work early tomorrow.”

“I do.”

“So, what’s up?” Sam sat down next to him, their shoulders barely brushing.

Dean shook his head. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“How’s Cas doing?”

“Sore, but he’ll live. I’m going to have him ward the house tomorrow,” Dean replied. “Bobby said he did a good job today.” Dean glanced over at Sam. “How was work?”

Sam shrugged. “It was fine. Nothing exciting happened.”

“That’s the way you like it, huh?”

“It makes a nice change,” Sam admitted. “But I wouldn’t want it to be like that forever.”

“It won’t.” Dean rubbed a rough patch on the right knee of his jeans, knowing that he’d have a hole there soon. “We’ll get settled in, and then we’ll find a hunt.”

“And leave Cas behind?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean shrugged. “Someone will have to stay with Claire, and it’s not exactly safe to take him along.”

“How long have you felt that way about him?”

“Felt _what_ way?” Dean asked sharply.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean. The first thing you did after we escaped from Lucifer was to look for Cas.”

“He faced down the archangels for me,” Dean mumbled. “Of course I was going to look for him.”

“And then, when Michael tells you that you could have anything, you ask for Cas,” Sam continued as though Dean hadn’t said anything.

“He’s—”

Sam’s look stopped Dean in mid-explanation. “Come on, Dean. Give me some credit here. I was there when you broke every traffic law to get to him as quickly as possible.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know exactly how I feel. It’s been—it’s been a long time since…” Since he’d had a chance at more than a one night stand, Dean thought but couldn’t say. Since it had been about more than just sex.

And he’d _never_ felt this way about another man.

Sam braced a hand on Dean’s shoulder and pushed himself off the truck bed. “Good night. Don’t stay up too late.”

Dean followed Sam inside a few minutes later. He doubted he’d be able to sleep, but Sam had been right; he did need to get up early.

Castiel was sleeping on the couch, moving restlessly, his face creased as though in pain. As Dean moved closer, he could hear Cas whimpering and knew from prior experience that the screaming would follow soon after.

Dean squeezed Castiel’s shoulder gently, kneeling down next to the couch. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s Dean. I’m right here.”

Castiel whimpered once more, then settled, his breathing evening out slowly. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and moved his pallet on the floor closer to the couch, just in case Castiel needed him during the night.

~~~~~

Castiel shoveled cereal in his mouth without really tasting it, the sounds of cutlery fading into the background. The kiss weighed on his mind; Castiel wasn’t sure what, if anything, it had changed between him and Dean. Dean treated him as he had since he’d found Castiel lying in the field, newly human—with a kind of rough affection, solicitous, and yet not coddling.

Whether it was his obvious discomfort, or something else, Claire didn’t seem to be ignoring him anymore. She had sat down next to him at the kitchen table without complaint, and she responded to his inquiry on how she slept.

Bobby and Sam were still sleeping, so the three of them were alone together in the kitchen; from what Dean had said, this would likely become their routine, with Dean up early to take Claire to school, and Castiel awake because he wanted to be close to Dean.

“If Cas can get the wards done today, we’ll move into the house this weekend,” Dean said in response to a question from Claire.

“I’ll have my own room, right?” Claire asked. “And I can really paint it?”

Dean nodded. “Anything other than pink. Or purple.”

“You said anything other than pink,” Claire pointed out, with all the ruthlessness of a born haggler.

Dean smirked. “When you’re paying rent, you can paint the house whatever color you want.”

Claire grinned at that, and Castiel wondered if he would ever be able to do that, to set her at ease and make her smile, or if the fact that he wore her father’s face would prevent that.

“What about you?” she asked.

Dean sipped his coffee to buy time. “What about me?”

“Are you doing to have your own room?”

“Cas and I are going to bunk together,” Dean said mildly.

Castiel focused on his own cup of coffee, not wanting to see the expression on Dean’s face, not wanting to know how Dean felt about the arrangements.

“Because there are only three bedrooms?” Her voice was sly, knowing, something that Castiel didn’t understand. What might she know that he didn’t?

“Something like that.” Dean put his mug down on the counter. “Grab your stuff. If we don’t leave now, you’re going to be late for school.”

Claire obeyed, putting her dishes in the sink and running upstairs to get her school things. Castiel wondered at how quickly Dean had adjusted to this role; he seemed born to be a father.

“Dean—”

“Later, Cas.” Dean wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

Castiel didn’t believe him, but he could wait; he had nothing better to do, and he would stay by Dean’s side, even if the kiss meant nothing at all.

~~~~~

Dean hadn’t rented a house in a long time. Dad had on occasion when they were younger, and if it was cheaper than a motel, or he was on a long-term hunt that required him to be in one place for a while.

Hunting with Sam had meant a long string of motel rooms, rarely staying in one place longer than a couple of days, maybe a week at most; the apocalypse had required even more moving around.

So, in a way, it felt good to be able to unpack his bag, to put clothing in drawers and on hangers. What hadn’t been in the house, he, Sam and Cas had found in thrift stores and behind dumpsters, and even though the furniture was stained and threadbare, it was all comfortable.

Dean looked up at the ward Castiel had drawn over their bedroom door in chalk. More complex than those Dean was used to, Castiel had assured him that it would prevent demons from entering; there was one over every opening in the house, including the front entrance.

Cas had spent an entire day perfecting each one while Dean was at work and Claire was at school. Right now, Cas was helping Sam get the kitchen put together—not that they had much, although Dean figured that they probably ought to make more of an effort to cook with Claire around.

Dean finished unpacking, glancing over at the queen sized bed and thinking about Sam’s suggestion that they get an air mattress for one of them. There was just enough space for one, but Dean abruptly realized that he didn’t want to deal with it.

He could hear Claire’s voice in the kitchen as he approached, and Castiel’s answering rumble. Cas’ voice wasn’t quite as deep as it had been when he was still an angel, but it was still powerful, and Dean still found himself aroused.

“Yes, I do, actually.”

Dean had no idea what Castiel meant, having come in on the middle of the conversation, and he paused.

“Do you think God meant for it to happen?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel sounded troubled, uncertain.

Dishes clanked together, and Claire said, “Daddy didn’t want to pray after he came back. I don’t think he believed anymore.”

“He believed. Without a doubt, he believed. But your father was angry, and he had a right to be.” Castiel paused. “You have a right to be.”

“Are you angry?”

Another pause. “Sometimes.”

“I want my dad back.” The raw hurt in Claire’s voice caused Dean to wince, and he wondered how Castiel had gotten her to talk like this. Maybe it was just because Cas and Claire were connected in a weird sort of way. Maybe Claire figured this was as close as she’d get to talking to her dad.

Dean still missed his own father, so he understood that; Castiel probably did too.

“If I could switch places with him, I would. I wish I could bring your father back for you.”

Dean could tell that Cas meant every word, and he was selfishly grateful that it wasn’t possible. Losing Castiel once was enough; Dean didn’t want to lose him again.

Dean made some noise as he walked, wanting to be sure that they heard him coming.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He went to get dinner,” Castiel replied, his voice not betraying the emotion Dean had heard moments before. The sunburn was fading, leaving his skin bronzed underneath the peeling skin. “Sandwiches, I think.”

“Subway,” Claire added. She looked from Dean to Castiel, then announced, “I’m going to watch TV.”

Dean suspected that she was leaving the way clear for them to have a private conversation, and he wondered how Claire felt about the possibility of the two of them together.

“Did you already bring your stuff in?” Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged, a human gesture he’d apparently picked up. “I thought I’d let you unpack first. I don’t have much.”

“Yeah.” Dean took a step closer to him. “Cas, about the other night…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Castiel said hurriedly. “I understand if you’re not interested. I’m not—”

Dean couldn’t resist; he kissed Castiel, swallowing the words before Cas could say anything more. He had to admit that as strange as it was, Castiel felt pretty damn good snugged up against him, Cas’ hands resting on his chest.

The small, helpless sounds that Castiel was making caused Dean to deepen the kiss, his hands tugging Castiel’s hips even closer to his own.

“What were you saying?” Dean asked when he finally broke off.

Castiel seemed to find Dean’s neck fascinating. “Nothing. There is nothing.”

Dean sensed Cas’ need for reassurance, remembering his words to Claire, that he would switch places with Jimmy Novak. “Hey, we’re in this for the long haul, right?”

Castiel looked up at that, blue eyes wide and searching. He swallowed. “Yes. We’re in this for the long haul.”

Dean nodded, satisfied. “Good. Then, uh, if you don’t mind, I’ll tell Sam to forget about getting the air mattress. I think the bed is big enough for two of us.”

Castiel’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced away. This time, Dean thought, it had more to do with shyness than anything else. “I believe it is.”

“Good. Great.” Dean might have leaned in for another kiss, but he heard the front door open and Sam’s voice calling out that dinner had arrived.

Dean released Castiel reluctantly and hoped he’d said the right thing.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel stirred sleepily when Dean climbed out of bed, and Dean pressed a quick kiss to the back of Castiel’s neck. “Go back to sleep, Cas.”

“Where are you going?”

“Work, and I have to take Claire to school. Sleep.”

Castiel murmured drowsily and rolled over, burying his head in the pillow once more. When he finally disentangled himself from the sheets and blankets, the sun was well up in the sky.

Sam sat in the kitchen at the battered wooden table they’d picked up at a garage sale. “Hey, Cas,” Sam said. “You want a cup of coffee?”

“I can get it.” Castiel poured a mug of coffee and joined Sam.

Glancing up from his paper, Sam smiled. “Do you have any plans for today?”

Castiel shook his head. He hated having nothing to do, feeling purposeless, as though he was nothing but a burden on Sam and Dean.

“Great,” Sam said with what Castiel considered to be obscene cheer. “Because we’ve got some errands. I made a list.”

“A list?” Castiel asked faintly.

“Bobby wants you out at his place,” Sam explained. “Those wards you drew are better than anything he’s seen before. He wants you to write them down, so he can pass them along, and he thought he might have some books you’d like to read.”

“Uh, sure.” Castiel wasn’t sure where Sam was going with this.

“Plus, you know, Bobby’s place is great for learning how to drive.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide. “But, Dean—”

“Dean’s okay with it,” Sam assured him. “Trust me, you don’t want Dean teaching you, especially not in his car. He totally freaks.”

Castiel bit back a smile. “I’ve noticed that Dean is very attached to his car.”

“_Very_ attached,” Sam agreed with a grin. “I told him I’d get you started, teach you the basics on Bobby’s loaner. It’s only fair, since Dean’s already done the driver’s ed thing once.”

“When was that?”

“With me. Dad didn’t have the time.”

Castiel knew enough about John Winchester to understand. “I’m sure he would have if he could, Sam.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Dad did his best. I get that now.”

“So, you want me to help Bobby, and teach me how to drive?” Castiel clarified.

“Yeah, as soon as you’re ready.”

“Give me a few minutes,” Castiel replied.

Sam smirked into his coffee. “You might want to do something about your hair.”

Castiel’s hands went to his head,. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It’s sticking up on one side, and it’s flattened on the other,” Sam replied.

Castiel frowned. “Is that a problem?”

Sam laughed. “Never mind.”

~~~~~

“So, how much did you get crossed off the list today?” Dean asked softly.

The scene was unbelievably domestic. Dean couldn’t quite believe how easy it was to settle into a routine. Claire was doing her homework at the kitchen table, and Castiel sat next to her in companionable silence, reading one of Bobby’s books.

And he and Sam were sharing a beer out in the living room, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Bobby picked Cas’ brain, Cas grabbed a few books, and we had our first driving lesson.”

Dean winced, remembering the first lesson he’d given Sam on how to drive. “Yeah? How bad was it?”

“He did okay, Dean,” Sam assured him. “I wouldn’t let him behind the wheel of the Impala anytime soon, but he did really well for a first time.”

Dean rubbed the edge of the label on his beer bottle. “Tattoo next, then. Did you talk to him about it yet?”

“Thought I’d leave that for you.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “So, have you talked him into having sex yet?”

Dean choked on his beer, then glared at Sam when Castiel and Claire looked up. “Sam…”

His brother just laughed and went back to the previous topic. “Better get the tattoo taken care of soon. The demons may not know where we are yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“I’d feel better if I knew why they’re looking for Claire,” Dean admitted.

Sam glanced over at the pair in the kitchen, just visible through the doorway. “Bobby has a theory on that. He said that a vessel’s blood has special properties. Remember when the demons wanted Jimmy?”

“I thought that was just to get their hands on Cas,” Dean objected.

Sam shrugged and took a swig of his beer. “Maybe, but there are a couple of rituals they could use Claire’s blood for, ramp up their power.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that. “Then this isn’t over.”

“It’s never going to be over,” Sam acknowledged, “but Bobby also said that the incidence of demon possessions has gone way down. The numbers are a lot closer to where they were before Azazel.”

“Well, that’s something anyway,” Dean admitted. “I’ll talk to Cas tonight, and find a place tomorrow. You still have the outline?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, no problem.”

Dean finished off his beer and rose, stretching slowly. “Think I’ll grab a shower. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.”

Sam’s knowing look had Dean heading determinedly for the bathroom he was currently sharing with Cas and Sam. They had unanimously decided to let Claire have her own bathroom, since Dean and Sam were used to sharing anyway.

By the time he was out of the shower, Cas was laying on his back on the bed, dressed only in boxers. A faint breeze blew in through the window, aided by the ceiling fan, and Dean stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans to join Cas on the bed.

“You okay?”

Castiel rolled his head to look at Dean. “You keep asking me that.”

“It’s a big adjustment.”

“Today helped.” The confession sounded as though it had been dragged out of Cas, and Dean propped himself up on his elbow to get a better view. Seeing the unspoken question, Castiel continued, “I don’t want to be a burden, Dean. If I’m to help, I need to know how. I need a purpose.”

“Sam said you did good today,” Dean replied, shifting topics slightly.

A movement of Castiel’s shoulders suggested that he was trying to shrug, which was difficult when he was on his back. “I didn’t run into anything.”

The tone was self-deprecating, and Dean couldn’t resist anymore, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, resting his free hand on Cas’ bare chest, right over his heart. Castiel’s hands came up to frame Dean’s face, his touch tentative, and Dean rolled to cover Cas’ body with his own.

“We can go as slow as you need,” Dean murmured into Cas’ neck. “Whatever you want.”

“You,” Cas gasped, sounding desperate. “Please, Dean. You.”

Dean rolled again, this time reaching for the lube he’d stashed in the drawer of the bedside table. When he looked back, Cas’ eyes were shining in the fading light, staring at Dean with a sort of hungry bewilderment. His expression, the innocence in Cas’ eyes, called forth an answering tenderness in Dean, and he eased Cas’ shorts down over his hips.

“What—” Cas began, eyes wide and startled.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want,” Dean assured him again. “You just say the word.”

Whatever Cas was going to say was swallowed up in a groan as Dean’s hand drifted down his stomach, stroking Cas’ cock softly. Dean ignored Castiel’s protests when he paused to squirt lube out on his fingers, then grinned fiercely at Cas’ moans of pleasure when he gripped Cas’ cock again.

“Shh,” Dean cautioned him. “Claire’s just down the hall.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, clearly trying to maintain his silence, his hips jerking helplessly as Dean found an easy rhythm. Dean grinned as Castiel stiffened under him, murmuring, “That’s right, Cas. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Castiel came quickly, and Dean swallowed his cry in a possessive kiss. Cas buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, still trembling.

“You okay?” Dean asked softly.

Castiel nodded. “But you—”

“I’m good,” Dean assured him. “It’s okay.”

“No, I want to.” Castiel sat up slowly, a familiar, intense expression on his face. Cas looked at him as though Dean was a puzzle he wanted to figure out, and he set about doing so with a determination that soon had Dean squirming.

Castiel’s attempts were amateur, reminding Dean of some of his earliest fumbling encounters, but he guided Cas with words and small nudges. Cas echoed Dean’s earlier movements, his hand gripping Dean’s cock, moving up and down, first slowly, then faster.

Dean hadn’t quite realized how fast of a learner Castiel was until Cas’ hands found a steady rhythm, Cas’ mouth licking and nipping a path across Dean’s chest. When Cas bit down on Dean’s left nipple, Dean had to stifle his own cry of completion with the back of his hand.

Cas collapsed next to him, his head resting on Dean’s shoulder. “Was it—was I—”

“You did great,” Dean assured him softly. He let the afterglow hang between them for a few minutes before nudging Cas gently. “We’re going to need to get cleaned up.”

“Okay.”

Dean pushed himself up, gently dislodging Castiel. “And we need to talk about getting you a tattoo.”

Castiel’s hand touched the ward over Dean’s heart. “Like yours?”

“Yeah, like mine.”

Cas looked at him intently, head tilted in a familiar way. Dean waited as Cas considered the proposition, his finger tracing the familiar outline of the ward. “Will it protect Claire?”

“It means demons wouldn’t be able to possess you,” Dean explained patiently. “So, yeah, it would protect Claire.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Very well. I’d like to get it taken care of soon.”

Dean touched Cas’ cheek, his jaw, feeling stubble under his fingers. “Good.”

~~~~~

Castiel stood in the middle of Bobby’s yard, the humidity of the summer night making the air thick. The crunch of footsteps on the gravel drive had him whirling, expecting to see Dean; instead, Michael stood before him, in all his angelic glory.

“I’m dreaming.”

Michael’s radiant form moved closer. “Yes, although you would be able to see my true form even if you were awake. It is part of being a vessel; that much hasn’t changed.”

Castiel trembled, remembering the eternity of pain he’d experienced at the hands of his brethren—the eternity of pain he’d faced before Dean had freed him. Unable to stand, he fell to his knees at the archangel’s feet. “What do you want from me?”

“You offered to trade places with the girl’s father. Did you mean it?”

Castiel didn’t believe that it was possible. Jimmy was gone; the body was his alone. Still, he was compelled to answer truthfully. “Yes.”

“Would you really?” Michael asked wonderingly. “You gave up everything for a human, and now you would give that up for a child?”

Castiel couldn’t respond; the words stuck in his throat. The thought of leaving Dean was physically painful, but Claire would be happier with her father.

“Think about it,” Michael ordered. “I will return in two days for your answer.”

Castiel kept his eyes on the ground, unable to stop trembling. When he looked up, he was alone in the yard, and Michael was gone, leaving the smell of ozone behind.

The scent still filled his nostrils when Dean shook him awake. “Dean?”

“You okay?” Dean’s face was creased with worry in the half-light, and Castiel simply stared at him, the dream still holding sway. “Cas?”

“I’m fine,” he finally managed. “You should try to sleep. You still have time.”

Dean glanced at the display on his cell phone. “Not that much. You sure you’re okay? You were thrashing around pretty good.”

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean’s hand fell on his hip, and he pressed a kiss to Castiel’s lips. “You really want to go back to sleep?”

Castiel thought about Michael’s offer; he had no doubt that it was real, or that he had two days to make his decision.

The desire to remain behind, to _live_, startled him. Castiel wanted _this_—nights with Dean, and days spent learning what he needed to know. He wanted to continue to help protect Claire, and possibly to protect Dean and Sam as well.

Castiel wanted to continue to catalog all the things that he liked about being human, starting with kissing and sex, and everything in between. But if he only had two more days with Dean, Castiel wanted to enjoy every moment.

He reached for Dean hungrily, his hands gripping Dean’s hips, and was grateful to lose himself in Dean’s embrace.

~~~~~

Dean found that he enjoyed working a regular job a lot more than he ever thought he would. Ted ran his garage with military precision, and yet was flexible enough with his employees that Dean could leave when he needed to pick Claire up from school as long as he made the hours up somewhere else.

He figured he’d miss hunting eventually, but for right now, Dean liked having his family close, going home every day to his brother and ex-angel and a kid who treated him like a real uncle.

Dean pulled up in front of Claire’s school, smiling reflectively when he saw her among a group of girls, talking animatedly. When she caught sight of the Impala, Claire waved, then turned to say goodbye to the others.

“Good day?” Dean asked when Claire climbed into the passenger seat.

“Can I go to a party?” Claire asked, her eyes bright and excited.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Will there be boys there?”

Claire flushed slightly. “No. It’s just a sleepover.”

“Not a co-ed sleepover?”

She rolled her eyes eloquently. “No. No boys.”

“Good. Because you know you’re not allowed to date until you’re thirty, right?”

Claire glared at him. “Mom said sixteen.”

Dean grinned. “Fine. Sixteen. But only if Sam can chaperone.”

“Uncle Dean!”

Dean laughed. “Tell you what, kiddo. If you bring a boy by the house, and he isn’t scared off by your uncles, you can date him anytime you want.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“Really. Now, what do you say to a driving lesson?”

Claire’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “I thought you were going to teach me how to kill demons. You said you would.”

“After Cas’ driving lesson, I promise.”

Dean had already arranged to meet Cas out at Bobby’s, so he drove straight there, giving Claire a crash course in classic rock on the way.

“You like this stuff?” Claire finally asked.

“Hey!” Dean protested. “This is classic Zeppelin!”

Claire’s expression was clearly dubious, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “How old is this music?”

“I grew up on this stuff,” Dean informed her.

Claire raised her eyebrows. “Okay, fine. I’ll listen to Led Zeppelin if you listen to No Doubt.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Dean glanced at her and sighed, wondering how Claire had managed to wrap him around her little finger so quickly. “Fine. But you _cannot_ tell Sam. No matter what.”

“Pinky swear,” Claire replied.

“Right.” He pulled into Bobby’s yard. “Get your homework done while I take Cas for a drive, okay?”

“Okay.” Dean stepped out of the car and watched Claire walk up to the house, just as Cas came out of the front door. He frowned when he saw the expression on Cas’ face, unable to place it.

“You’re going to let me drive your car?” Castiel asked as he approached the Impala.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, once we get out where you can’t hit anything.” He winked to take the sting out of his words. “Hop in, Cas.”

They switched places once they were out of the yard, on one of the empty stretches of road in South Dakota. “Sam said you weren’t good at this.”

Dean snorted. “Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I taught him how to drive, didn’t I?” He paused. “Just—be careful.”

“I know how much you love your car, Dean.” Cas gave him a look then that was so affectionate, his grin bright and broad and _happy_. Dean thought his heart would stop, and he suddenly knew that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. Okay. Here we go.”

Cas was a lot more cautious than Sam had been at fourteen, when Dean had first started teaching him how to drive. That had been more out of necessity than desire; Dean had been helping his dad almost full-time at that point, and someone had to be able to drive the car if both of them were injured.

They were in the same boat now; Cas had to be able to drive in case something happened to him or Sam.

Dean didn’t say much; Cas was a fast learner, and Sam had apparently given him a thorough first lesson, because he did just fine.

“That was good,” Dean said as they pulled back into Bobby’s yard.

“Thank you for letting me drive your car.” Castiel’s hands tightened over the steering wheel. “I know how much you value it.”

“It’s not just a car,” Dean replied. “It’s—”

“I know.”

Dean eyed Castiel, suddenly noting the dark circles under Cas’ eyes, the tension in the set of his shoulders that had been masked by his earlier excitement. “What’s going on, Cas?”

“Nothing, Dean.”

“That’s not nothing.” Dean leaned back against the passenger door. “I know you. I know when something is bugging you. What’s up?”

Cas shook his head.

“Does it have something to do with that dream you had last night?”

Cas looked stricken, eyes wide and hurt. “How did you know?”

“Because I know you,” Dean repeated. “Come on. Talk to me.”

“Michael appeared to me.”

Dean felt his heart beat a little faster. He’d been wondering when the other shoe would drop. “And?”

“He offered me a choice: to stay or to change places with Jimmy.”

“This is about what you promised Claire,” Dean said flatly.

“You heard?”

“Yeah.” Dean stared at him. “And?”

“I have—had—two days.”

Dean squeezed his eyes closed tightly. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t want to leave you.” Castiel turned haunted eyes to him. “But what would you do, Dean?”

Dean looked away, knowing exactly what he would do, and it didn’t help him answer Cas, because he wanted to be selfish for once in his life—and he wanted Castiel to stay, whatever the consequences.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel watched as Dean patiently demonstrated how best to sight a target with a small pistol. Claire watched Dean’s actions intently, looking out of place on the makeshift range with her face still round with baby fat, long blond hair, and pink barrettes. She was the picture of innocence, but when Dean handed her the weapon, she removed the safety and brought the gun up to firing position like a pro.

“Good,” Dean praised. “You’re going to fire on the exhale, and remember the recoil. It can come as a surprise the first time around.”

Claire breathed out and squeezed the trigger; Castiel could see the cement splinters fly from the cinderblock wall where Dean had set up the soda cans.

“Good,” Dean repeated. “That was close. We’ll keep practicing until you can hit every single one.”

“Demons won’t die from bullets, though. Bobby told me.” Claire’s face was raised to Dean’s, but Castiel could see the terrible loss of innocence from her eyes. “You have to use a knife, or a special gun.”

“Or an exorcism,” Dean added. “What do you need for an exorcism, Cas?”

Castiel sighed, wishing he could still perform an exorcism with the touch of his hand. Still, he knew the answer. “Salt, holy water, and the exorcism ritual. Faith helps, too.”

Dean nodded and turned to Claire. “Your job is to get away from demons, not fight them. If someone has to exorcise a demon, it’s not going to be you. You get me, you get Cas, or you get Sam. Hear me?”

Claire nodded, gulping at Dean’s harsh tone.

Dean pulled her into a quick hug. “Let’s try this again. We’re going to make a sharpshooter out of you in no time.”

“What about Uncle Cas?” Claire asked. “Isn’t he going to shoot?”

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, I’ll teach him. Starting next week.”

“Why next week?” Claire asked.

Castiel turned away, already feeling the distance that Dean had put between them. “Because we’re focusing on you right now, kiddo. I’ll give Cas a lesson some other night. Now, let’s try again.”

Castiel didn’t argue. Instead, he took a seat on the hood of the Impala, watching Dean as he instructed Claire with a patience he rarely showed with anyone else. Or outside of the bedroom, anyway, Castiel reflected.

Dean worked with Claire for another hour, and she was hitting two out of three aluminum cans by then. Dean beamed at her with pride, and Castiel wished he could make Dean look at him like that—look at him again with anything but shuttered wariness.

~~~~~

Dean pulled himself under the chassis of the car, surveying the damage done by the antlers of the buck the driver had run over. “Looks like some serious damage, Ted,” Dean called. “At least three days.”

“Work up an estimate,” Ted replied. “Then let me know.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Dean grinned up at the damaged chassis. “Yeah, okay.”

The grin faded almost immediately; his attempts at forgetting what Castiel had said weren’t working.

He focused on the damage, on how much each part was going to cost, plus labor. Dean had a working estimate an hour later, and had talked the car’s owner into a new timing belt, since she was due.

Dean had paused to drink deeply from a cold bottle of water when Sam walked into the shop. “Hey, Sam.” Dean wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d stop by for lunch.” Sam held up a paper sack from Dean’s favorite fast food joint. “Bacon cheeseburger?”

“Thanks.” Dean wiped his hands off and dug into the sack. Sam pulled a burger out of his own sack and took a large bite. “What’s with the visit?”

Sam shrugged. “I can’t bring lunch to my big brother?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, now I know you’re up to something. What’s going on, Sam?”

“You tell me.”

Dean felt anger flare. “I’m not in the mood for playing games.”

“You slept on the couch last night.”

Dean flushed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

With a shrug, Sam finished his burger in one large bite. After he swallowed it, Sam rose and deposited the bag with his remaining fries on Dean’s lap. “Okay. Why don’t you let me pick Claire up?”

“Why?”

“Give you a break. You take too much on, Dean.”

“Now you sound like Bobby.”

“Bobby’s right most of the time.”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that. We’ll never live it down.”

“Go out, get something to eat, go get a drink,” Sam said. “Why don’t you let me take care of things tonight?”

“You want to get me out of the way for some reason,” Dean said suspiciously.

Sam grinned. “You got me. We’re painting the house pink.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Get out of here, Sammy. I need to work.”

Sam just flipped him off.

~~~~~

Castiel missed Dean with an ache that wouldn’t be assuaged. He sat out on the back steps of their house and wondered if he would be sleeping alone again tonight, if Dean would even talk to him before Michael returned.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do, or what he should do. Castiel wished that Dean would _tell_ him what to do, but Dean was avoiding him.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel looked up to see Sam standing on his right. “Hello.”

“Beer?”

“Where’s Claire?”

“Watching TV.” Sam sat down next to him and held out a bottle of beer. “She’s safe. Your wards are the best.”

“Wards can be broken,” Castiel replied glumly.

Sam sighed audibly. “Yeah, but I think we’ll be okay out here. I wanted to talk to you.”

Castiel took a drink from his beer and didn’t respond.

“I know my brother, Cas. He’s been happier since you got back. Until yesterday, he was actually cheerful, and since he slept on the couch last night, I have to assume that you know what’s going on.”

Castiel hunched his shoulders.

“Let me help you. Dean’s upset, and it has something to do with you. Until it gets resolved, he’s going to act like an ass.” Sam wore a patient expression. “I don’t know about you, but the sooner he stops acting like a jerk, the happier I’ll be.”

Slowly, haltingly, Castiel told Sam about his dream and Michael’s offer.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a dream?” Sam asked gently.

Castiel nodded. “I’m certain.”

“So, what? You told Dean you were going to make the switch?”

Castiel shook his head. “I asked him what he would do.”

Sam snorted. “You two really are meant for each other.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked defensively, hearing the exasperation in Sam’s voice.

“You’re both so willing to be martyrs when no one has asked you to,” Sam accused.

Castiel frowned. “Claire—”

“Claire is a vessel,” Sam replied. “From everything we know, the demons aren’t going to stop coming after her. She’s always going to need protection.”

“And I can give that to her?” Castiel demanded. “What can I give her that you or Dean cannot? Jimmy, at least, is her father. He would be able to comfort her.”

Sam frowned, his expression at once thoughtful and compassionate. “What do you want, Cas?”

“What?”

“What do _you_ want?” Sam took a swig of his beer. “Being human is all about making choices, some of them right, some of them wrong.”

“I don’t want to make the wrong decision,” Castiel admitted quietly. “I don’t want to hurt Dean.”

Sam clasped Cas’ shoulder. “Don’t worry about Dean, Cas. Figure out what you want to do, what you think is right, and then you do that.”

Castiel began to shake his head, and Sam gave his shoulder a little shake. “You figured it out before, didn’t you?” Sam asked. “You disobeyed because you thought it was the right thing to do. You’ve got the right instincts; follow them.”

Sam disappeared back inside, leaving Castiel to stare up at the stars. The opportunity to make his own choices was something he hadn’t considered when he’d disobeyed; Castiel had followed Dean because of his love, and because Castiel had believed that Dean was right.

Now, Castiel would have to make another choice, and he wasn’t sure that love should guide him.

~~~~~

Dean let himself into the house well after midnight. He stripped his jacket off and threw it over the ancient rust colored recliner, fully intent on collapsing on the couch and sleeping off his beer buzz.

He paused when he sensed a presence in the room, slowly turning to face Castiel, who was perched on the edge of the couch, hands on his knees, spine stiff. His posture reminded Dean of the old days, when Cas had a stick rammed up his ass.

“Cas? I thought you’d be in bed.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I just—”

“I talked to Sam.” Castiel looked up to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m staying.”

Dean thought his heart had skipped a beat. “What?”

Castiel rose slowly. “I realized that I cannot change what’s already done.”

“Nobody can.” Dean took a step forward. “What’s this about?”

“You.” Castiel’s eyes shone in the dim light that filtered through the front window from the streetlight. “I won’t leave you. I disobeyed for you, and this—” He gestured to himself. “This is part of the consequences. I won’t run from that.”

Dean frowned. “And Jimmy?”

A rueful smile tilted Castiel’s lips. “Jimmy is with his Father. I’ve been to heaven, Dean. I know that he is safe. Protecting Claire will be my way of honoring his memory, and his sacrifice.” He smiled knowingly. “And you need me.”

Dean blinked. “I do, huh?”

“Yes, you do.” Castiel took a step closer to him. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Dean looked away, struggling to contain his emotions. Now that Cas had announced his intentions of staying, Dean could admit how much he hadn’t wanted to let Cas go.

“Dean?”

He realized that it was taking him too long to respond. “What are you going to tell Michael?”

“I’m going to tell him that I’m needed here.” Cas’ voice was fierce. “I’m going to tell him to stay the hell away from my family.”

Dean surged forward, grabbing Cas’ face between his hands, kissing him desperately. Cas pushed his denim shirt off of his shoulders, and it floated to the floor. Dean pushed his hands under the hem of Cas’ t-shirt, pulling it off over his head, relieved to feel warm, bare skin.

“Our room,” Dean muttered in Cas’ ear. “If Claire or Sam come out to the kitchen…”

He left the consequences unspoken and allowed Cas to lead the way to their bedroom. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Cas shoved him towards the bed, running his hands down Dean’s chest possessively, then pulling Dean’s t-shirt off.

“I can’t let you go,” Castiel murmured. “I may be selfish, but I cannot let you go.”

Dean couldn’t find the words to reply; he simply raised his head and captured Cas’ mouth with his in a long, hungry kiss.

~~~~~

Castiel had tried to stay awake all night; even though he had made his decision, he had no desire to face off with Michael again. Dean’s deep, even breathing next to him had a soporific effect, however, and he couldn’t help but drift off.

“I see you made your choice.”

This time, they were standing in the same clearing where Castiel had first awoken as a human, and Michael stood behind him.

“I did,” Castiel replied evenly, turning slowly to face the archangel, trying not to let his knees shake too much. He tried to channel some of Dean’s arrogance and kept his back straight and his chin up.

Michael sneered. “You’re being selfish.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Michael. Where is Jimmy Novak’s soul?” Castiel already knew the answer, but he sought confirmation.

“Why do you ask?” He sensed, rather than saw, Michael’s discomfort.

“Because I would like to know.”

“He has gone to his reward, as has Amelia.”

“Then it would be selfish of me to wish the pain of the world on him again, instead of choosing to stay, and take his place.”

There was a moment of shock, and then a peal of delighted laughter from Michael. “Ah, I see you’re learning what it means to be human. Choices are difficult.”

Castiel squared his shoulders. “I have been given a gift.”

“So you have.” Michael smiled. “Use it well, Castiel.”

Feeling bolder, he called out, “Wait! What about Claire?”

“What about her?”

Since Michael sounded intrigued rather than forbidding, Castiel pressed forward. “Will you protect her? At least until she can protect herself. She is just a child.”

Michael shook his head. “She is already protected,” he replied, giving Castiel a meaningful look. “And we have given her what she needs to heal. Besides, we are leaving. Angels will not walk the earth again, not in your lifetime.”

The archangel reached for Castiel, and Michael’s words echoed in his head. “Goodbye, little brother.”

Castiel woke abruptly, as though he had been thrown out of the dream. The bedroom was still dark, the air close. He could feel the thin sheen of sweat on his chest and forehead, the beat of his heart, the stickiness that remained after he and Dean had collapsed after sex.

He remembered what Dean had said about being human, and what made it worth it, and thought of his own list: coffee, Bobby’s chili, Claire’s shy smile when she was truly delighted, sex. Dean.

Castiel rolled onto his side, reaching out to touch Dean’s cheek with his free hand, then fitting his palm over the scar on Dean’s shoulder. It was a perfect fit, as it should be.

“You okay?” Dean asked quietly, surprisingly alert.

Castiel nodded. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

“Did you see him?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him to fuck off?”

Castiel smirked. “Not in so many words.”

“You should have,” Dean mumbled. “Probably won’t get another chance.”

“Probably not,” Castiel agreed, his love for Dean swelling up to fill the empty places inside of him. “But I’m staying.”

“Good.” Dean scooted closer, and Castiel ran a hand over Dean’s hair. “Tattoo tomorrow,” Dean murmured into Castiel’s chest.

“I remember.” Castiel pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

~~~~~

Dean kept a careful eye on Cas as he stirred the eggs on the stove. Castiel had insisted that Dean show him how to make breakfast, and so he was the one at the stove, his hair sticking up in spikes on one side, flattened on the other, looking rumpled and sleepy.

Claire had already started on her breakfast, an open book in front of her as she absent-mindedly ate a piece of toast. “Uncle Cas?”

Dean saw the surprise flare in Cas’ eyes at Claire’s form of address; she usually avoided saying his name at all. “Yes, Claire?”

“Can we go to church on Sunday?”

Cas threw a panicked look at Dean, who shrugged.

“Why do you want to go?” Castiel finally asked.

Claire kept her eyes on her book, her cheeks flushing. “I just—I had a dream last night.”

“What sort of dream?” Dean asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Claire’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “It’s kind of private.”

“We can go to church,” Castiel assured her. “Just tell me which one you would like to attend.”

Claire smiled at him, her eyes bright. “Thanks.”

Sam stumbled into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“In the pot,” Dean replied, pulling the bread out of the toaster.

“Oh, and why are your clothes in the living room?” Sam asked, after he took his first sip.

Dean met Cas’ eyes, and Cas smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. “None of your business,” Dean replied firmly. He threw the toast on the plate and handed it to his nosy little brother.

“Eat.”

Sam just sat down next to Claire, grinning insolently as he asked her about what she was reading. Dean let her explanation fade into the background as he glanced over at Cas, staring intently at the eggs, as though determined to get it right.

Dean grinned. As strange as it might seem, his life was pretty damn good.

~~~~~

Castiel studied his reflection in the mirror; he had finally begun to feel as though his face—his body—was his own, and not a vessel borrowed for a limited amount of time. He touched the newly-smooth skin of his jaw, and grimaced at his unruly hair. Castiel had no idea whether he should try to do something else with it for church, but what that would be…

With a shrug, Castiel looped the familiar blue tie around his neck and exited the bathroom, nearly running into Dean.

“Hey,” Dean said with a sleepy smile. “You still planning on taking Claire to church?”

“Would you like to come with us?” Castiel asked, aware that Dean would likely turn him down.

Dean shook his head, his nimble fingers already going to Cas’ tie, expertly beginning to flip one end over the other. “No, it’s not really my thing.”

“I’m not sure that it’s mine either.”

“But you’re doing it for Claire,” Dean said softly, adjusting Castiel’s collar and tie in a tender gesture.

Cas smiled. “She’s asked me for so little. It’s the least I could do.”

“We’re going out to Bobby’s after,” Dean reminded him. His fingers ghosted unerringly over the still-tender patch of skin where Castiel’s new tattoo had been marked. “He said something about grilling.”

“That sounds good.” Castiel clasped Dean’s hand. “I’ll see you in a little while?”

“Yeah, sure.” A goofy grin crossed Dean’s face, and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to Castiel’s lips.

Claire was waiting for Cas in the living room, wearing a skirt and blouse, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Ready?” she asked hopefully.

“Is this all right?” Castiel asked, waving to his white shirt, blue tie, and black suit pants. Dean had assured him that he didn’t need the suit jacket, and that this would be appropriate attire for church.

Claire smiled, her expression almost affectionate. “It’s great, Uncle Cas.”

The church was only a few blocks away, so they walked side by side in companionable silence. The cool morning air played over his face and bare forearms, while the bright sunlight made him squint.

“How’s the sunburn?” Claire asked.

Cas glanced down at his now tanned arms. “Dean tells me that I probably won’t burn so easily next time.”

“Yeah.” Claire went quiet in the way she did when she was thinking of her parents. “That’s how Dad was.”

Castiel didn’t know how to respond, but he knew that running away wasn’t an option. “Claire, I’m sorry about your father.”

“I know.” Claire kept her gaze on the ground in front of her. “But I think he’s in a better place.”

“I believe that as well.”

“Uncle Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Are you _with_ Uncle Dean?”

Castiel hesitated. “Yes.” He realized belatedly that Claire might be upset about this. “Are you okay with our relationship?”

“Do you love him?” Claire countered.

“Yes.” Castiel had no doubt about that.

Claire shrugged. “I guess if you love each other, then it’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Sometimes I dream about being an angel,” Claire said softly. “It’s amazing.”

Castiel smiled. “It is, but being human is better.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] A Heart That Hurts (Is A Heart That Works)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149042) by [exmanhater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater)




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